


Clocktower Seduction

by orphan_account



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/stay night - All Media Types, ロード・エルメロイⅡ世の事件簿 - 三田誠 | Lord El-Melloi II Case Files - Sanda Makoto
Genre: Blackmail, Cheating, F/M, OC main character, Seduction, Straight Sex, commission, ntr, ongoing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 00:17:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20282254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Clocktower is one of the three main branches of the magus world. Where the current and soon-to-become house heads study. A dangerous place where deals are struck at any moment, and all for the sake of furthering the history of one's family.Or, in the case of one individual, to satisfy his lusts with the bodies of the more amicable women.Anonymous Commission. See my Profile page for more information!





	1. Luvia Edelfelt (Family Trade)

_Chink-Chink-Chink_  
  
The clattering of gemstones echoed through the room, rolling around in a platinum blonde’s hands as she stared across the table. A small table, moderate, but well carved and designed, perfectly acceptable for one of her standing. It was horribly below the class of her dress and attire, but for the residence she and her companion were in, it suited it well enough.  
  
_Chink-Chink-Chink_  
  
The sound echoed again as she focused her brown gaze on the man across from her. He was not unappealing to look at, she would admit, but more comparable to the table than her cloth. And her clothes, finally seamed, gowned, and pressed, were befitting the head of a Magus household such as hers. They were just comparable to her own natural beauty.  
  
The long dress of frilled blue, stretching to the midst of her chins, and accompanied by the details of white wrapping around her body. Twin ribbons to match the floral and elegant design tied around her hair, letting her coiled hair separate into twin-tails, increasing her status and posture in the room, as was to be expected for her.  
  
_Chink-Chink-Chink_  
  
There was no clock in the room to signify the passing of time, nothing but the pair of emerald green and ruby red gemstones she continued to twirl in her hands, watching the man still. She could not help but judge, as was her duty to be here. The heir and current head of the Edelfelt Magus household had to judge the abilities and worth of all magus who hoped to do business with her estate. That naturally began with their appearance. It was why she looked as pristine as the Kaleidoscope of Lord Zelretch.  
  
The man, however, appeared in a too common suit for the English magus, such as herself. Expensive, no doubt, but befit with no crest or emblem of his household, let alone any signs of his prestige as a member of the Clocktower. It was a high honor that was meant to be met with great pride, and yet this man dressed himself… as if such things were beneath him. Perhaps too much pride, or none at all.  
  
_Chink-Chink-Chink_  
  
“I must say, you have certain fascination with those gems,” the man finally spoke, and she was thankful to hear his voice had strength to it. Compared to the rest of his unassuming appearance, she thought it would be meek and flimsy in comparison. “If I may guess, you have charged special Mystic Codes in there, have you not? With the wealth of the Edelfelt household, I am sure it was of no consequence to acquire those gems. I would hope it was with the same amount of difficulty you charged those stones.”  
  
_Chink-_  
  
“You are correct,” she spoke in response. He had led, and it would be disrespectful to not follow, not so long as he strode the proper line. “It was of no difficulty at all.” She grinned at him, resting her chin on the back of her folded hand, the silk of her azure glove soft to the touch. She raised one of the emerald gems as she spoke. “A bit of thaumaturgy to encase a wind spell within it, runed with preservation properties to contain the spell from damaging the vessel. At least… until I have reason to unleash it.” She left her words sit carefully.  
  
“I would hope you find no reason to do so, least so soon,” the man responded back, a smile to match her own. His blue eyes trailed her, grinning like his mouth, curved upwards and sharp as blades. “There certainly are no lack of Plebeians and commoners worthy of being tossed around for their undue haughtiness, even within the hallowed walls of the Clocktower.”  
  
He leaned back in his seat as he said that, folding his legs and assuring his entire physique was presented to her, clothed in the dark suit as it was. She briefly had the idea of how fitting he would look in a painting at the moment, but threw it aside. These was no moment to admire such things. Only judge them for worth. Much like her gems, the finest she had crafted this week, among hundreds she had done this month alone.  
  
“Second and third rate magus, matching their rank the same as the generations of their house, absorbing lessons they cannot hope absorb or mirroring the actions of Magi they cannot fathom to match.” His hand waved at the comment, blowing a tuft of air from his nose as he did so. “That is not a problem proper magus like you or I possess. House heads and fitted with enough magical crests to give many pauses.” He rolled his hand as he spoke.  
  
Rolled it, then stopped to present the back of his palm to her. She watched the strains of blue lines fire through it, the crackling of energy across the palm, energy at his fingertips. Mana dancing in his hand, and a fine amount at that. She nodded at the sight, not impressed, but at least accepting of what she saw. Far amazing, but just the same length as despicable.  
  
“It is why I am glad you allowed for this meeting to continue, Luviagelita Edelfelt,” the man returned again, holding out his hand to her now. “A Magus house as wealthy, talented, and focused as your own truly does befit and match both the prestige and legacy of my own.” Ah, now he was entering dangerous territory.  
  
“Please, call me Luvia,” she began, never letting her smile dip or twist. “And I must confess, though you seem to know a great deal about me, the most I have been given regarding _you_ is your family’s specialty in Healing Magecraft. As far as I have been able to gather, the Inselbergs were the only family to have such proficiency in such thaumaturgy, able to attempt acts that one may consider… life extending.” She kept her eyes careful on the man. “And we, being _such_ proficient Magi, are both familiar how dangerous that is.”  
  
She flicked the smaller of the two gems in her hands until it was contained between her thumb and finger, edging back and forth as she rubbed across it. The man never blinked, smile never faded. Even when she flexed her thumb and cracked the gem.  
  
Immediately, the runes she had inscribed into her sleeves, a rather crude artform that had limited uses, was able to summon the necessary spell to contain the twisted that suddenly erupted from her hand. One, though not nearly of any horrific scale, but enough to make the loose items in the room spin around blow. A few teacups and kettles, the spare chair aside them both, a painting of the London landscape behind the man, all of them flipping and falling to the floor with a crash.  
  
But Luvia kept her hand up and didn’t blink as she stare at the man, even as her golden coiled hair whipped around her. Even if the man’s tie did the same, he did not look away all the same. She grinned at him, and him to her.  
  
The spell died down without much further cause for alarm, anything harmed or broken well within the budget of her household to compensate for tea sets were hardly an issue, well within the budget and fortune of her family to compensate. If it was to either chase away or entice a new entrepreneurial area in their craft, then it would be a worthy investment. That or, again, to chase a coward away.  
  
But rather instead of that, the noble across from her merely looked around the room, as if measuring the strength of her cast rune. The gem was broken and the catalyst gone, but he appeared to be observing either its strength, its worth… or something else. It made her frown, but the more tempered part of her mind reminded her how appropriate it was.  
  
“There is much strength in your gems, and clearly tempered to an acceptable level of strength,” he spoke with eyes far from her. “I know of the usual novices or abandoned members of otherwise strong families attempting to cause obscene damage merely for show. You, however, have shown a temperament to your power. You showed not just the strength of your circuits in channeling such magic, but also in your dedication to runes to contain the spell once unleashed.” Now his eyes fell back on her, to point at her glove.  
  
She raised a blonde brow at his extended finger, impressed with his eye. It was a good observation on his part, seeing more than just the ruin in the room. Truly he did have a fine eye, better than other family heads who depended upon their legacy more than their strength. Perhaps she could gain more out of this than she initially thought.  
  
“However, and I mean no disrespect, what you showed is nothing more than the fruits of diligence and labor. Nothing of heritage or history.” Her eyes fell again, amber burning at the man’s confident blue. His calmness was that of a still ocean, but she immediately felt a fire blaze at his dismissive tone. “Jewel craft is a storied area of study for your family, but I recall that you were proficient in other works as well. Patents are plentiful, enough that they are referenced often if even by requirement, and you do nothing to shame that storied history.” The compliment, following what amounted to a slap, was not appreciated.  
  
“I care to say the same about you, Château,” she insulted with his last name. He was not worth being referred to in a familiar tone, not if he was about to dismiss her strengths for some petty words of… _ordinary_. “You have already pointed towards the Einzeberns as your fellows, and with their craft capable of creating and sustaining life in Homunculi, I dare to say your family has mountain to conquer if you even wish to being to impress me.” And impressing her _was_ the goal. There was no reason to call her otherwise.  
  
“If I were to attempt to surpass them in the field of faking life, you would be correct. However, my family and our craft attempt to… let us say _supplement_ rather than replace.” His hand rolled in front of her, as if holding something to flip between his fingers. Much like she was doing with her gems.  
  
_SHINK!_ Until he produced a knife.  
  
Lluvia’s hand tightened on the Ruby in her grasp in a moment, prepared to burn the man should he wish to approach too quickly. However, for better or worse, he merely held up his other hand opposite of her.  
  
“Hold now, Luvia. I am not threatening you with this. Only a true vagrant of the streets would be so crude,” he spoke with mirth in his voice, and the girl across from her felt her skin bristle at the tone. She watched, fingers tightening on the fragile gem, as he turned his palm towards the blade. Then, quick as could be, he dragged it across it.  
  
Luvia wasn’t surprised by the blood, but rather the mind of the magus who thought drawing his own was wise.  
  
It fell to the mat beneath them in a quickly growing puddle, far faster than she expected a shallow wound to create. In fact, it quickly darkened the otherwise bright colors of the fabric into an angry and furious red. A fury that her own temperament was waring with as he held his hand up, showing her the wound he had inflicted. Luvia was not familiar enough with human biology to guess properly, however, she knew of arteries and blood vessels… and the gift of her family’s wisdom was whispering that was likely what this man of the Château House had nicked.  
  
“The concept of the blood leaving is because it has no limitation in its path,” the man explained, even as he held his bloody hand in front of her. Luvia did _not_ release the Emerald gem in her hand. Released without her Mystic Code, it would incapacitate him. “All things and parts have their concepts and even our blood is no different. It follows the paths before it. And, should that path be an open wound, it will flow out of it. However… my family deign to try a different approach rather than merely plugging the hole.” Luvia watched, full of trepidation, as the magic circuits across his opposite hand began to spark.  
  
She continued to watch, as he put the sparking palm to his hand, enjoying to a minor degree at the flinch of pain that crossed his features. For insult and injury, this was the appropriate punishment. However, she was more impressed with what came when he drew his hand back, showing both palms to her once more.  
  
In the palm that he had bloodied, she could see _into_ his palm when he did so. Into… to show the blood _flowing through the vessels…_ _without falling out_.  
  
“My word…” she found herself breathing, tension replaced with awe. It appeared so simple… in comparison to more fragile or volatile spells… but Luvia knew the truth. Few families explored the depths of healing magic because its nature _itself_ was volatile. A spell that may rejuvenate energy in one man may cause another to collapse in convulsions. Its delicacy was on par or above that of even gemstones.  
  
And this man… his family… had shown an area or means to do some incredible things.  
  
“Wonderous, isn’t it? The pride of five generations of the Château Magecraft?” The pride in his voice, Luvia could admit, was well deserved. “Rather than attempting to force the body to change or alter itself to imitate or supplement a need, instead removing the more harmful aspects of the body so they may only continue to supply beneficial outcomes. Though this demonstration is a minor one, we have studied long for other manners and means to use these arts.”  
  
The Edelfelt found her free hand upon her chin, holding it steady as she watched the young noble across from her, listening as he began to list these means to her. She kept her legs hidden beneath her dress, properly for her own noble heritage… but if her blouse had fallen to reveal the V of her chest, then it would only be a boon for her in this conversation.  
  
“To remove the idea of blood leaving the body is but one concept. Others maybe as complicated as the metabolization of alcohol in the liver, leading to its simple consumption, then quick removal from the body, without a means to induce an inebriated state.” He shared the idea with the pride it rightfully deserved. “The less folk who cannot go a night without drinking away their sorrows would have no need for something as grand as this, but for all members of my family, attending these events and never having fear of forgetting the faces they see due to the drinks we have, it is a boon that many overlook.” Luvia was not one of those fools.  
  
“I can see the benefit,” she easily admitted. That, however, also was a mistake, and she realized it after she made it. She _confessed_ the benefit of the opposing party, without _showing_ her own. One that he was enamored with as well. She clicked her tongue when she admitted the mistake to herself.  
  
“I am glad you enjoy it, as many _have_ tried to see our thaumaturgy methods and means. The concept may be simple, after all, but only those of great prestige and storied history can divine the means to gather the results.” He spoke her thoughts only moments ago. Luvia did all that she could to keep herself from biting her thumb in aggravation. This was not the time to make a further fool of herself.  
  
“Perhaps then, if you approached me with this great craft of yours, you may be able to tell what it is you wish to share with my family?” She spoke with practiced ease. This was where her ladyhood could shine. “You did insinuate not long ago that my family craft was… _common_, I believe your implication.” Yes, that was it, put him on the spot to remove him from the power play. She relaxed in her chair to shower her superior ground. The Château house head, however, did much the same in response.  
  
“No, I don’t believe I insinuated such.” His words made her brow rise again, a confident smirk upon her painted lips. “I spoke it, for it is the truth.” Only dash it again.  
  
“Pardon?” She tried again, sure she had not heard the man speak so bluntly towards her. The smile he returned to her, bright and cruel at once, was more than telling.  
  
“Ah, you must forgive me,” He raised both hands, one still showing the blood flowing within, but not out, of his palm. “We became so engrossed in telling of our crafts I never properly introduced myself, did I?” He stood up with the declaration, the confidence of his actions making Luvia more than a bit uncomfortable. There was confidence in step… the intimidating in presence.  
  
“My name is Emerick Jean Château, fifth head of the Château Household and one of the leading researchers into the Healing Magecraft.” His bow was deep, but with a head bent to keep his eyes on her. Rather, it was deep so he _could_ put himself eye level with Luvia, and never looking away. “I have been tasked to come to the Clocktower by my father in order to build alliances with other households, as well as to strengthen my knowledge in other crafts.” Were those words spoke before this conversation, it would have appeared normal and sane. Now, with what he had displayed, this… Emerick had Luvia on her seat’s edge.  
  
“How understandable a goal,” she repeated sanely, keeping her wits above her and gems tight in her hands, even as the boy rose to his fullest height again. Far from impressive, but still just as far from lacking. “I do not suppose you approached me for a reason more than my _common_ craft.”  
  
“Why of course,” he kept his smile as he answered. “I was told to meet other households, and you are among the most noble, yet still approachable. You are someone who I knew I could hold a conversation of our households’ future with. A shared one perhaps, and do so without fear of a one-sided trade.” The trade was still in play then.  
  
“Trade?” She questioned again. “You have mentioned that before and this meeting was meant to be focused on it, but now I find my knickers twisted and mind ill at ease with your display. Would you care to try and correct this feeling of mine, or do you wish to try your luck with another maiden?” She crossed her arms now, doing all but rebuffing the man. Let it be known she was not impressed, with his personality.  
  
His craft, on the other hand, would earn the ire of her father if she did _not_ gain at least notes concerning it. Damn to the Atlas Academy…  
  
“I have no need to correct your feelings. They are not only your own, but something I have no desire to have.” Luvia would be ashamed to know if there was a mirror in the room later, to show her expression of gob smacked surprise. That was… beyond uncouth! “It is quite the opposite with the storied history of my family’s craft, and it is bargaining chip I am well aware your household desires to have. Make no mistake of that.” Then he already knew.  
  
_Chink-Chink-Chink_  
  
Luvia twirled her two spare gems again, sure she could take on this man if he implied something worse, but he appeared to be more of words than action so far. Dangerous words, she minded, but just words nonetheless. She was no slouch, either. Her mother and father had not raised her to be one. She was born of excellent craft.  
  
“What I want to trade instead is something more… intimate than notes on your craft or skill. Something that even rival households regularly participate in.” He spoke the words as he rounded the short unassuming table between them, quickly approaching her, but never taking action. “The act that many magi indulge in, for many… many reasons.”  
  
His meaning became clear when he truly was standing above her, and she regretted letting him get so close.  
  
Luvia dropped the gems she was holding, hearing them clatter to the cushion before dropping off somewhere unimportant on the floor. She didn’t search for them, her eyes too wide and staring into the still confident gaze of the man now hovering right above her. No… more than that. A knee up over the cushion she sat on, a hand on the rest her back was against, and his other… holding her chin and tilting it up towards him.  
  
“You are a beautiful woman, Luvia Edelfelt,” Emerick spoke again, and the words still were much appreciated. But not enough for this contact. “However, to ensure the crests and thaumaturgy practices of the Château house are not wasted… I need more to ensure that you are amicable with trade. More than merely fine jewels or funding can afford.”  
  
She was without words or breath for a moment, and a moment far longer than she was used to. Enough for her to stare up at him and grit her teeth to keep her jaw from shaking. He didn’t move, nor approach. He just… waited. She needed to say something,_ do_ something. But… action in a violent nature would be against the Clocktower rules and standing. _She_ would be punished for it. Perhaps by the Lord… or White Lady…  
  
“If you are asking… for a _shared_ generation, then I am sorry to inform I am already spoken for,” she tried, holding up her hand above her head. It drew his attention from her, him staring at it dispassionately. She knew what he was looking at.  
  
The ring her fiancé had given her some months ago, before traveling to Atlas to study in an attempt to structure more rigid gemstones, to increase the level of spells they could refine and store, perhaps even lengthen. A Jewel that was made from his first study at the attempt, a Sapphire that fit her gown of blue and shone like the sun. It was something splendid she enjoyed to gaze upon.  
  
_Pluck_!  
  
And Luvia gasped when she felt it suddenly pulled from her finger, dismissively at that. She took in air to scream at the man, but found her voice overtaken by his soft tone.  
  
“I am not looking to make _that_ deep of a contract between our houses. Our blood will not be stained with inadequacy,” Emerick spoke again, as if he _hadn’t_ just thrown her engagement ring from her hand. As if _it were nothing_. “I am looking to engage in a need, if a basic one, that I feel you are more qualified to satiate then any of the other wanton and desperate whores in this place.” She bit her tongue, knowing full well what he meant.  
  
But this was not the first time she had been propositioned, even if it was by far the crudest. It was… enough to make her growl up at him, at the man who stared down at her with blue eyes as impassive and deep as the ocean, and likely just as cold as its depths.  
  
“What I want is to exchange some of the greater secrets of my household, crafts and rune markings to both improve the physical health of yourself and your household, in spite any extreme usage of the Gandr shot you are so proud of,” he began. Luvia felt his hand guide up grasp her own, holding her in place with an arm twisted above her head and out of vision, and her body was otherwise trapped beneath his. “And on your end of the trade… something you have great pride in.”  
  
His hand fell down from her hand to guide over her face, and Luvia took all her will to not shirk away or bite his hand as it guided down her cheek. It was warm, surprisingly callout, a common trait for a dedicated magus, but still letting his fingers guide over her as if she were a fine painting… only to have his thumb position and bend itself into her mouth.  
  
A wet _‘glrch’_ing sound left her as his thumb pushed itself in, immediately pushing her tongue out of the way and making her _taste _him. Now she did gag, hateful of the taste as much as anything else. He did not even shy away at her gaze, only grinning with that same look that was mirrored above so below. Grinning eyes with a grinning mouth.  
  
“I know you are a loyal bitch, one who has taken many precautions with your… well, I will dine to call him your _significant _other.” Her amber eyes burned up at him, truly loathing the man beyond all contempt now. “Studying in a sealed academy while you toil with average ways far from him. One must be forgiven to think you are desperate for another to match his grasp.” Luvia moved to _bite_ his thumb off!  
  
… only to find her jaw having difficulty in moving. Shown in her eyes or elsewhere, the man must have seen.  
  
“Don’t worry, I cast no spells on you. Such things are unnecessary to get what I want.” His thumb _rolled_ through her mouth, making Luvia’s jaw wore sorely at his antics. Her tongue did little to push him away, only making her _taste_ him as well. It was much like his appearance, painfully average, and _painful_. “No, you see, in learning of our craft, we need to know of the human body. And for me, learning of such things and differences lead me to a fascination of it… fascination tied deeply with _appreciation_.”  
  
Luvia felt her body jerk up, dress treading down her body, as she moved back along her seat. No… as she moved _and_ was pushed. Pushed by Emerick’s knee, _between her legs_. That and… and her _damnable legs_ _spread_ as she pushed herself back! She was only a hoist away from revealing her panties to him! But, instead, he just rolled his leg around at the hip, _grinding_ his knee into her twat. The sound that was drawn and shoved out of her mouth, vibrating over his thumb, was _horrific_ to her ears.  
  
“If it is not yet evident, Luvia,” he spoke again. “I am not looking for a contract of goods on your part. I can find those from others. However, very few, if any others, have a body as well-crafted as your own. A gift of your lineage, I’m sure.” He twisted his knee again, and Luvia _loathed _how it made her legs spread further, dragging her dress up her body now, leaving her bare legs exposed and her pussy _doubtlessly_ silhouetted by a damp patch. And worse yet, she _still_ couldn’t shut her legs! “Just as sure your father and family heads would be disappointed to hear of what my family craft is and your… _unwillingness_ to try and learn of it.”  
  
All the Edelfelt family head could do was gurgle through the thumb in her mouth, thinking past all her actions in the past of how to quickly resolve this. A spell that could obliterate the man, something to trick him into thinking he had taken what he _wanted_ anything. But with her current mystic code limited to gems and her body pinned… There was little to nothing she could do.  
  
And what was worse, she knew Emerick was correct. Her father would be _furious_ when she reported what happened, for her _and_ for their family. To lose such a head like this… she would be asked why she did not simply take the deal! It wasn’t a contract for life, but an offering of her body. Magi like them gave up much more. Tears stained her vision as she realized it.  
  
“There, that’s better,” the despicable man spoke as Luvia sagged against him. “Enjoy what you can from this, and you may be taking the lion’s share from this exchange.” He comments smoothly as his free hand fell down her side, grabbing at her top on the way down. She bit back a snarl, mainly by the thumb still making her drool out of her mouth, as he grasped one of her breasts as well. “Knowledge of the Château household, and the pleasure of fucking its current head.”  
  
_GROPE!_ She rolled her head back as her breast was roughly squeezed by the sycophant, drool flowing past his thumb _still_ jabbed in her mouth, wrenching her jaw open further. Her body shivered at his rough approach, even as her fists clenched in fury of it all. But that did not deter the man, far from it.  
  
Luvia fell back until she flat on the seat, pinned by the male as her dress was regulated to her center, legs exposed and pulled down past her breasts, showing them off as they were handled roughly. Her spiral hair was splayed out behind her as her own drool fell around her chin, the same time her _own juices_ leaked out of her pussy, _still_ being ground by his knee. She would have growled, if it didn’t come out as a moan.  
  
“Firm, but with the suppleness that shows they are not enhanced,” the Château head noted passively as he used her. “I suspected you may have enhanced yourself in some way, a manner for most female heads to attract the attention of others. But I am thankful my sources were correct, and little about you is fraudulent.” The mocking vice did little for her patience. She only glared at him, even as his touch continued to make her body shiver beneath him, wishing she could strike him down with a simple spell or Gandr shot. “But if that is the case, then it should be of little issue to make this proceed pleasantly for us both.” The smile he wore, eyes grinning and curved to match, did nothing for her sanity.  
  
Luvia, thankfully, felt his hand leave her mouth, giving her the time to shut it, but not stop the drool that now pooled past her cheek. She had to grimace as the slobber covered hand trailed down her chest line, falling over her other breast and viciously pinching the taunt tit. She _loathed_ how her body reacted, even more so how he grinned at the way her back arched into it. A scoundrel though he was, he clearly was knowledgeable of his craft, damning as that was in this moment. But his hand did not stop there, even as her breasts shook from his touch.  
  
It swiftly descended past her dress, the crumbled mess that it was, and quickly making contact with her bare leg. Luvia rolled her head as she felt it, knowing the path it was heading towards. Her hair was tossed across the cushions as she tried to close her legs, but the knee _still_ grinding into her groin made it impossible. And the fact her legs were weaker by the moment did not assist.  
  
And, as if by magical comparison, the circuit was complete when his free hand slipped beneath her panties, dragging across her wet lips.  
  
Then electricity, commanded by perhaps Thor himself, shot through her brain. Enough to make her body convulse beneath the man who had shocked her. The man who was holding her up and straight with a hand on her breast and pussy, then a knee on her clit for support. And Luvia could only stare at him as her eyes crossed and jaw twitched without command.  
  
“_Gohh~”_ Her mouth was open again as a hot moan left her, one that has her pussy shivering from the small shock she felt. Her core felt as if it were heated for a moment, like a spell was cast on it, but it couldn’t be. She saw no circuits, no Mystic code Just Emerick’s touch and… and the _pleasure_ that flowed up her from her pussy to her head, making her mind spark and body convulse at the touch.  
  
“Did you have a bit of an orgasm there?” He mockingly spoke above her, _degrading her_. “No need to be ashamed. That is something that men can take great pride in. And it does me well to know that you have a body suited for what I want. After all, the more pleasure you receive, the greater I am sure _I_ will feel.” She only breathed hotly at his words, not trusting her jaw, shaking as she got over the orgasm he had, _damningly,_ brought her to. But though her body was weakened, she was not going to break.  
  
She was not… not going to give in like this. Her fiancé was far better, she knew and… it did not matter than this Emerick was looking for this exchange. That was all this was. A sharing of secrets that was going to result in her family’s strengthening. And that just needed her to…  
  
Deal with the cock… sitting between her legs.  
  
Luvia stare at it, wondering when he had taken his hand from her breast or raised his knee from her groin. She was in the trawls of her pleasure too much to realize. She could only see that… his cock was far larger than she expected. From the seat of his pants, held above her pussy, dripping with her juices, and almost pushing against her dress still crumbled at her center. She swallowed what she could as she stared at it, the man it belonged to grinning down at her, maliciously at that.  
  
“I am to please and impress, especially with those who I do business with,” the man spoke as his hand raised up to grab her dress. Luvia was too weak to stop him. _RIP!_ Even as he tore away the gown with a single strong pull of his arm. She would have gasped and covered up, if she was not still being ensnared by the shocks of pleasure dancing at her nerve ends. Even her circuits felt like they were being fired from it. “Now… keep that expression for me, would you? I don’t look away.”  
  
The hand that threw away her dress rose to grab her mouth again, squeezing until her jaw was forced open, tongue lolled out, and cheeks pushed between her teeth. All while the man glowered down at her. She could just make out his hips being pulled back, lining up the obvious _with_ the obvious. And she could do nothing to stop it.  
  
“I want to see you enjoy this.” _SLAM!_  
  
The only thing keeping Luvia’s head from slamming back into the cushions with her hair was the hand on her jaw, keeping her position still. Even as she practically wrenched herself against the man, back bowing up into him, and breasts shaking with the effort. And none of that compared or measured to the cock that had put itself deep enough into that she could feel her womb scream with the force of it. And how.  
  
She was seeing double of the man that had begun to fuck her, feeling her pussy stretch to its fullest as her cervix was knocked on by the head of the massive schlong. It sailed back into her and her legs were practically sailed back at the same time. The clapping of his balls against her ass echoed through the room, jaw shivering with a comparable level to her pussy! It hurt, it was painful… and it was making her moan with the wet slaps that were resounding from her pussy.  
  
“There’s the expression I was looking for,” Emerick noted easily above her, his smile twisted as he continued to beat and fuck her relentless. The sofa they ‘shared’ shaking across the floor as she was having her hips beaten back, and all he did was grit his jaw as he continued to fuck her sideways. “Enjoying yourself? Enjoying me? Getting all that you want out of this?” True or not, Luvia couldn’t comment back a response. Not when she was getting the feeling of her gut twisting with the pleasure that was seeping into her core.  
  
If there was any magic being cast or used at this moment, she couldn’t tell or have even the energy to check. She couldn’t focus as she had her pussy all but manhandled and taken from her by the _beast_ of a thing that was fucking her. She was starting to doubt if the mystic code the man was bragging to her about was what was truly keeping her here, and not the pleasure that was something many girls like her had fantasized about while younger! It was something she was going to enjoy while being taken advantage of… it was this.  
  
“_GRAH~~!”_ Her voice let out again, the force of the fucking and her jaw still being wrenched open drawing out another undignified sound from her, but at the same time she felt her pussy being filled with an object longer and harder than some of the toys she had procured in her time off. And what was more, treating her in a way that was worse than any other would dare.  
  
The hand left her face as it grabbed her shoulder, _pulling_ her down on Emerick’s cock as he really started to piston into her, faster than before and with a speed that made her thankful she had cummed earlier. Enough to let her juices flow, even if her muscles were sore and strained and… and it was cuming again! She was feeling it! She was going to cum.  
  
And she did so, biting her lips as she believed she’d draw her own blood with the force of the grit. And at the same moment, her legs folded around the ma, pulling him closer as he took her by force on the sofa, letting her cum on his cock as it let her juices flow over and onto the seat, dripping down her ass and filling her holes. Slobber from her mouth falling off of her as she writhed with pleasure!  
  
Then he came.  
  
The pleasure returned, tenfold.  
  
“_GRRrAHAHAGagghhhh~~~!” _Enough to make her let out sounds she wasn’t aware she could make. In comprehensible noises that flew from her as she tried to rationalize the feeling that had been ripped into and forth from her, making her body feel as if it were being melted from the inside out, womb slightly distending from her body as it was filled by Emerick’s cum!  
  
And then she felt it drip from her pussy around his cock, spilling down her ass cheeks and over her hole, staining the seats they were on. Her hands practically _clawed_ at his suit, her body a useless mess and hair beyond merely unkempt or stained. The few coils she had left would have lasted longer in a fight then another bout of sex with this man.  
  
“Alright, release me,” he spoke dismissively, shattering any illusions Luvia was under of the process being amicable. It was… _far_ better than she thought, but the man standing over her, cock still out and herself beyond worn and used to even move, did much to remind her of how this happened. “I am glad to see that you did enjoy yourself, but I can’t very well leave with my cock this filthy, can I? Hold on a moment.” She had little thought left to wonder and no energy to stop him as he got off of her, taking a short step to let the cock hang over her face.  
  
_SLAP!_ She could gargle as it was shoved against her lips, her mouth so open she didn’t have the foresight to shut it. Not even as he shoved the length of his cock into her mouth. It hurt to _move_ her body had cum so many times, muscles burning as she tried to shut her legs and back aching as she tried to move away. But she could do nothing of the sort.  
  
Not he grabbed her head, essentially_ fucking_ her throat clean with his cock. And Luvia could test his cum and her own _pussy_ on his length, dragging across her tongue and spilling over her lips to her cheeks and face. It was staining her enough that tears dribbled from her eyes, the taste and stench of it _far_ from the pleasured excitement she had before! It was disgusting!  
  
And the moment the thought passed, Emerick pulled out. His _cleaned cock_ hanging above her, as if it was the prize of the night… and she was nothing but the sheath he had pulled it from.  
  
“_Much_ better. How fortuitous that you have more holes with more purpose than pleasure,” he grinned down at her, and Luvia couldn’t speak still. If not for the pleasure that had her brain all but fried, then the fact that her throat had difficulty shutting from the _fucking _it had undergone, short as it was.  
  
He put his dick away he looked down at her, grinning at her ruined state. Luvia had no reason to imagine she appeared anything less. And the truth of it… was not good.  
  
“I will see that some of our patents yet written and submitted are shared with your magus. Miyu, I believe was a… _sister_ of yours who may benefit from them.” Emerick spoke above her, straightening his tie even with his back turned to her. “If there are any issues with the information contained, please do not hesitate to send for me, as I’d be more than happy to provide guidance or further instruction on the material.”  
  
Now he looked down at her, and Luvia shivered. She was naked, save for her gloves and ribbons, stripped past her panties and bra and lain like a decorative piece over the seating sofa. Her legs were too weak to stand, forced open by the size of his cock that had _split_ her pussy, leaving her still wracking with breath and jaw open for air. Her breasts heaved up and down even as he looked at her. Her tits, tight and straight, shivered with her body as his grin grew.  
  
“Be sure to clean yourself up if you do, enough that there will be no questions for seeing me. Wouldn’t want the commoners to misunderstand your purpose, would we?” She swallowed on nothing, feeling her groin and pussy shiver as they tried to shut themselves. But her thighs were too worn and bruised to do it.  
  
Instead, she could only bite her tongue as Emerick Château chuckled, _laughed_, at her ruined state, and opened the door. It shut behind him, blessedly or not.  
  
It shut, leaving Luviagelita Edelfelt naked, alone, and thoroughly fucked in the Clocktower room. Her engagement ring nowhere in sight.


	2. Fiore Forvedge (Healing Limbs)

The Clocktower was the one place she never wished to visit again, but it was now the one place she felt a strong desire to come see. It was a harsh conflict of emotions, but one she had resolved and pushed through before she had booked the appropriate train car to come here. Any worries or second guesses she might have had for coming were left alone in her family house or in the car as she sat patiently.  
  
Just as patiently as she was rolling her way through the gardens and low-rise buildings of one of the three Magus centers of the world. Her eyes were taking in the sights around her, adoring the architecture that had survived for centuries, the flowers and flora that sustained themselves through seasons and years, and knowing that behind the brick walls of the numerous buildings were the Magi of future generations practicing their craft.  
  
Her brother was here at the moment, among them and doubtlessly with his nose in a book. She recalled fondly how the first few letters he had sent to her complained about the lack of modern inventions, asking her if there were any problems with her phone. Humorous for many reasons, not the least of which was that the new head of their family was teaching the abdicated former head about the ways of the world, and she was the one who had to guide him.  
  
There was no denying that her brother was a determined one though, willing to stay in the Clocktower despite the mockery that commonly came to their family. Many issues that had been placed on her, now transferred to him, and he had to deal with alone. No one truly understood the strength that he had, but she was happy to be one of the few to remind him of it.  
  
Exiting the cobbled path of the garden put her in the outer corridors of the academic buildings, where she was sure she would find her brother. A few feet forward and she saw where she needed to go. Unfortunately, it was also somewhere she couldn’t reach.  
  
“Oh dear,” she let out with a breathless sigh, frowning as she stared up at the stairwell in front of her. “If the library is in the upper floors…” she mused the point as she looked around, but saw no elevator, escalator, or even long ramp to assist her reaching the upper sections of the building. For her, that was a problem she wasn’t sure how to overcome.  
  
She gripped the handles of her wheelchair, trying to figure out how to overcome this. Her long auburn hair flowed as she turned her head left and right, bending forward what little she could to keep her normally long locks from catching on the handles of her seat. She likely would have been tapping her feet as well, if she had sensation in them. A tick she had lost by force when she lost most everything else.  
  
“I suppose this is what Caules would use as an example of the benefits of modern society.” She would have a difficult time arguing with him on that point as well. Being able to find numerous means to access higher flowers had been a boon to her once she was exercised from the Forvedge household, even if learning of the modern appliances was more challenging than she initially expected. “Perhaps… I may find a Magus with a solution.” There had to be one, as she had serious doubts the center of magical information for the Magus world would have something as barring as stairs for its members.  
  
Though, she realized even as she pushed her wheels forward, hearing the crank in her wheelchair as she made her way down the exposed hall, it would be just as possible to run across a Magus or elder who would scorn her first before offering assistance, and any assistance she was able to negotiate would be at a price of her own self-respect. That was a reason for leaving the Clocktower she had no regrets for.  
  
It was also why she had to find her brother, so he would not be so disheartened by the cruel machinations of those who lived and worked her. He was her younger brother, and Fiore would put herself before two dozen more cars before she let her brother suffer for a fate she had turned her back on.  
  
“What are you doing?” The sudden question jostled the auburn-haired girl from her musings. She turned to see a magus approaching her, and obviously one at that. The fine suit he wore, complete with how he stood tall above her, despite her wheel-chair bound position, made his prestige more than evident. “Are you meant to be roaming these halls alone?” His demeanor was just as sharp as his dress.  
  
“Ah, my apologies,” Fiore returned, head bowing what she could manage in her chair. “I am here to visit my brother Caules, current head of the Forvedge Magus Clan. Due to our distance from one another, I believed that if I were to give him company for today, he would be encouraged for his studies.” Honesty was always appreciated by the higher Magus in the Clocktower. The way the man’s grin grew as he watched her and listened to her speak was evident she had chosen just as well.  
  
“I see. I cannot say I know the man you speak of, as I am new here myself.” He was? With how he carried himself, she never would have guessed such.  
  
Her surprise was further pushed away when he took steps closer to her, bending lightly in front of her, reaching out towards her. She gripped the arm of her chair for a moment, forcing herself to remain calm in front of him. Though harm to her was unlikely in the halls of the Clocktower, she could not discredit an eager Magus looking at her as a thing more than a person. Such a fear was put to rest when instead of her neck or breast, he grabbed her hand, lifting it up.  
  
“I am Emerick Château, fifth head of the Château household and new arrival to this academic building.” The blonde returned with a grin to his blue eyes. How he was able to pull his lids in such a way was both captivating and mesmerizing. Enough that Fiore only passively recognized how he took up her hand into his own, laying a kiss at her knuckles, such like a gentleman.   
  
“Ah,” she spoke lightly, color staining her cheeks as she let the man kiss her knuckles. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well. I apologize if I have disturbed you in your studies or errands.” He had been walking somewhere before he approached her, and her presence was distracting to most, given the chair she was bound to.  
  
“Not at all. At the moment, I am still trying to acclimate myself to this place,” he stood tall and waved at the area around them. “Much of this academic facility is laid out to best suit the heads who have founded it, and as such tends to lack organization that would benefit the eager, rather than the entitled.” He had a manner of speech that captivated her, as much as his dress and attire. And he saw her more than a woman in a chair, it appeared at least. “Though I must question how your brother fairs, and why a woman as fair as you are here visiting him.” Yes, perhaps he did.  
  
“He’s my younger sibling. Caules took over as the head of the family following my abdication of the clan head.” Emerick’s brow rose at her explanation, and she knew it was not substantial enough. History had shown her that. And a man as kind as him did deserve more. “When I was made the clan head, and I had the circuits transferred to me, but the malfunction with my inborn circuits caused my legs to debilitate, and… it was a painful moment.” The Château head, a house that she had not heard of before, despite its apparent age, only hummed at her words. “To ensure that our clan would not be disrespected, I agreed to transfer the rights of the household and the magus circuits to him, so that he could be a more powerful head, capable as well.” He was not quiet there yet, as he confided in her and she recognized, but saying not there was not the same as unreachable. He would, and soon, too.  
  
“Admirable, ensuring the house survives both rumor and destruction.” Emerick’s words were water upon a scalding wound. “In addition to gaining the hierarchal of your family, he also had yours given to him. I assume he must be a Magus of some talent then. A pity then that you are in the same state still.” And like all Magus, he did not mince words when it came to the observation of one another.  
  
Were she of more immature mind, Fiore would know the truth of the man’s words. Despite having given up the magecraft of her family, she still was unable to walk. Cursed with broken circuits despite being the head of her family, but then ruined with an unfortunate mistake as they were transferred to her younger brother.  
  
Now she was wheelchair bound, without a mystic code to use, and the subject of either pity or ridicule, depending on the individual who found her on such a day. It was not the conclusion any household would wish to be known.  
  
“It is a benefit that you had a sibling to continue your family line. The number of families I have known who gave up or disinherited their younger kin in order to grow their power are vast in number.” The words were cruel, but only because they reflected the reality of the world. Fiore nodded her head at the message he had made for her. “However, that is not to say that you must now resign yourself to torment for all your life. Magus like I learn our craft to offer assistance.”  
  
She looked up him, wondering what on earth or in the name of the Root he could be referring to. Medical magic was surely something that was explored before, but her brother had quickly found that many of the professors declared her preexisting circuits made the introduction of other magic to risky to her health. In other words, in the act of trying to restore her severed spinal column, it could instead send a shockwave to her mind. Needless to say, neither were enthused with the idea.  
  
“I can tell you are skeptical, but I will forgive that, for few can appreciate or even comprehend the magecraft of the Château household, five generations in the making, and destined to be carried on by me and my kin.” He had the confident smile that so many magi held, but going further for even his eyes to bend as well. It was a captivating sight, if even still of putting to her. She did not wheel away, especially not while she was a normal human before a family head.  
  
“… I may inquire what it is you propose, but I do wish to tell you that I have already been examined before, at my brother’s request.” The information did not dismay Emerick in the least. His grin never faltered or fell.   
  
“I would have to recant my appreciation for your brother if he had not done so, for a Magus unaware of his options is hardly one worthy of continuing the line.” Well that was fine to know. Emerick started to walk around her though, making Fiore put her hands to her armrests in a bit of wariness. “Don’t be worried. I’m merely hoping to make the most of our time. So, I hope to explain while I walk. And I’d rather you not exert yourself beforehand, as that can lead to complications.” Complications… was he proposing doing the research at this moment? No no, she was supposed to go see her brother, not… help a foreign and alien Magus with his craft. “Despite what you may think, I assure you it will not take long. Rather, if all goes well, you may be able to walk to your brother instead.” And a proud Magus would not lie.  
  
Fiore swallowed on nothing, but let the man begin to wheel her chair forward. She passed several unknown halls and doors, the man walking with sure step despite having previously said he was new to the Clocktower. Perhaps he was taking the time to learn the layout of the facility, and therefore just knew where to go. Yes, that made sense. She took in the possibility, unwilling to believe she was being led astray so early, and so easily, by a stranger.   
  
“My craft is about the modification of concepts in the human body, a difficult task when all parts of multiple purposes.” The Château head, speaking of his magic true to his word. “The necessity for blood to spill, for example, cannot be taken away or else it would be impossible for some wounds to heal, through the delivery of platelets and T-Cells for fighting bacteria. Similarly, for nerves, the quick repairment of them could easily lead to others being mismanaged, forcing you to kick your foot when you wanted to bend your toe. A contraction rather than an extension of a limb.” This seemed rather basic, but she nodded regardless.  
  
He stopped in front of a door, walking in front of her to put his hand on the handle and push it open. The room inside was rather unassuming, but appeared to be furnished well. Well enough she knew it was no laboratory or workshop for any Magus. Rather instead… it looked as if it were a visiting room. One complete with a window that overlooked a central garden. A garden mostly bare, but with a few students that appeared to be studying or enjoying the day.   
  
“Thankfully for me, the Château family has prided itself in not only understanding the finer points of the biological pathways, but also how to modify those conditions to relate to a concept that matches a requirement.” The blonde kept speaking, and he did so as he put a hand on Fiore’s back, pushing her forward.   
  
“_Wha-“ _She caught herself, but was easily overpowered by the man. Her body was lain flat on the table in the center of the room, the man having at some point removed the ornaments from it, when or how she did not know. Fiore was only aware her useless legs were being flipped over the table, leaving her at the edge of it and her own body a counterweight.   
  
She was pinned, and the mand was straddling above her.  
  
Above her as he lifted her dress up, exposing her back. This time she managed to scream.  
  
“_How dare you-“_ Fiore was, however, cut off again by the man putting a hand to her mouth, and clenching. She was already at a disadvantage due to her femininity, but the body, plain as he looked by the qualifications of upper society, appeared to have some moderate muscle. Incomparable to a servant, but enough to know she couldn’t speak.  
  
“Be careful now, as I need to find the main point of abrasion, laceration, and contusions caused through your spinal column.” He somehow still managed to speak with an undue calm, even with Fiore glaring at him through the bangs of her auburn hair-willing the man to be lit aflame for how cruelly he was treating her. No such acts occurred, as she had no magic to make it even a dream of a reality. “While I do admire your sense of decency, despite your indecent and attractive panties, I am more concerned with fixing the damage to your body than exploiting your present issues.” Charity or not, and Fiore reminded herself Magi did _not_ offer charity, he was being beyond crude.  
  
She grit her teeth behind the hand at her mouth, unable to do much more than slobber into it. He gave her a clear look of indignation at the efforts, but otherwise was focused on her back. She turned back over as he put his hand to the small of her back, working his way up as she worked to find something to grab. A tool could help her now, even if to knock his hand away. Then she-  
  
“_Agh!_” she let out as she felt a small pressure on her back, enough to make her shoulders arch.  
  
“There it is. Just as I suspected, naturally,” Emerick listed easily, apparently _waiting_ for her reaction. She had a fine guess now why. “Now hold still, as I am going to perform three… no, better make it four magical incantations, and I would like to ensure that you are not harmed during this.” Her eyes widened now out of fear for harm and discomfort. “If any lesser magus was doing this, you may have reason to be concerned. But instead you have me upon your back and examining you. Therefore, you have been graced with a blessing of the root for me to be the one to do this.”  
  
_This_, as Fiore came to realize, involved him pushing magic into her back. Her instincts were what kept her still, aware that moving during any kind of transmutation process would be debilitating in ways far worse than what she already had. Instead, she sucked in a breath and held it, staring straight forward and thinking of all the things she wished to say to Caules, praying that she would still be able to when this day was done.   
  
Lightning, or at least the sensation of it, ran up her back as she felt it work. Her muscles started to flex, forcing her to will herself still as it worked through her. Nerves firing at her upper back, down her forearms and biceps, tingling her fingers and making her hair feel as it were standing on end. It was not a sensation she enjoyed.  
  
“Almost there. Keep still for a moment longer.” Fiore knew she had no choice in the matter, as any kind of motion was viable to end in her demise. Demise, or something even worse. She was a former magus, she knew of such fates. So, she held herself still, ready to turn on the man and pull him to the ground with her if necessary, scream as loud as she could as well.  
  
Her eyes shut tightly as she felt that electric sensation run up her. Like the Bronze Link Manipulator she used to use, latching itself to her thoughts and operating their four arms. She felt as if they were being pulled away from her, and she didn’t even have the ability to use them anymore. All she had was the sensation of the boy on her back, the Château house head as he so insisted to be called, and with her letting him do as necessary, as _wanted_ to her back.  
  
“Done. Should be a least.” Fiore _gasped_ out a breath of air she didn’t even know she was holding. Her breaths shook her body, allowing her to wipe a hand through her hair to calm herself. It wasn’t working, not until the man got off of her side, releasing her from the pinned position on the table. “Well, I can’t be certain if it worked or not until you move. So, if you would be so kind?” He was speaking as if… he had done nothing wrong?!  
  
“What on _Earth_ is the matter with you?!” Fiore pushed herself around, legs flopping over the table as she did so, stinging as the back of her legs hit the edge of the wooden platform. She was quick to drag her dress back down hiding her panties and bras from this _barbarian_ of callous nature! “I do not care how skilled you are, to drag me away from a meeting with brother to work… on…” her voice dragged off as she realized something. Something important.  
  
She had flipped over with her arms, pushing in a pushup position she had been made to do for physical therapy constantly. And when she had, she _felt_ her legs hit the table. She felt it. She had sensation.  
  
Fiore’s eyes were wide when she watched her knee bend, tentatively drawing the limb closer, watching it as if she were conducting the true magic of the third circle with the act. Her jaw was shaking, reaching out with her hand to brush at the knee hidden beneath the fabric. When she touched it, she, again, _felt it. _  
  
“Well, it appears that you can provide suitable excitation to allow for flexion in your semimembranosus. That was my primary concern, but it doesn’t appear there are any issues.” Emerick spoke as he got in front of Fiore again, but this time she didn’t appear to mind. Not even when he bent down and flipped up her dress, again, and exposing her crotch, again, but to let him put pressure on her legs, for the first time.  
  
And in what felt like so long, it was pressure she could feel.  
  
“Antagonistic responses to applied pressure, muscle excitation, thankfully low levels of atrophy through disuse, so you must have lost control fairly recently.” He was right and wrong, but Fiore didn’t mind. All her animosity for the man had fled out the window behind her the moment she realized he had not spoken falsely to here.  
  
She was moving her legs, she had _sensation!_ She could… She didn’t even _need_ her wheelchair anymore! She could walk up to Caules and surprise him as he worked, maybe even actually making him guess who was here to help him, now that she didn’t have any reason to hide herself from him. He would be shocked, awed, and it was all because of this kind gentleman who… while admittedly not gentle, had still done much more than she believed was ever possible.   
  
“I’m going to have to go ahead and assume those tears are because your happy. I’m too good at this to cause pain during a conceptual transmutation.” She nodded at Emerick’s words, pride laced as they were. He was right, so she didn’t care. She had movement again _and_ she was no longer a Magus. She was just Fiore Forvedge, elder sister to the family head of their clan, and with motion capable with her again, she could support him as such. But before she could do that… she knew no magus took charity.  
  
“Thank you, thank you _so much_ Emerick Château,” she spoke his full name, giving respect to the household whose magus craft had given her sensation again. He grinned back up at her, hands still on her legs and feet, massaging them to inspect his work. She let him, content to make sure this was not a fluke of is magic. “There must be something I can do to repay you for this. Some act I can help you with or materials I can help you procure.” He never even tried to play off that he wasn’t interested.   
  
“Of course, I need payment of some kind,” the young Château returned, even as he rubbed at her feet, massaging them, a sensation she could _feel_. It was still so much she couldn’t take away her smile. “The mage craft of any house is not to be freely given away. To do so would be to invite ruin to my family’s name. I will not be the first of a line five lineages long to mistake charity with a good deed.” His logic was appropriately sound.  
  
Though she cared little for the life style of a magus, she was not so naïve as to believe that good charity could sustain them. Like a baker giving away his bread, it simply was not something that could be done. But this… this was a great gift that Emerick had shown her. Her legs were healed, and… and she was able to feel again. If the payment was within their means…  
  
“What manner of payment do you need?” Fiore returned again. “Though I do not have any magecraft of my own to share, not anymore, I am sure my brother will be more than happy to offer my old Mystic Codes and the manipulation of them. That… may be of use to you.” She couldn’t be sure how, but she was just as sure of the free treatment.  
  
“No, no, I have no need for something like that,” he waved off. “Rather, I want something simple from you. So simple in fact that any woman, commoner, Plebian, or ancient being, is capable of offering such.” That was a wide range of tasks, hidden only by what they were willing to do. But for this gift, for her _legs_, Fiore was willing.  
  
“Anything, what do you desire?” She spoke, _enjoying_ how her legs could spread across the table, still careless that her modesty was being ruined in front of the man. For someone like him able to work such magic, it couldn’t be anything he hadn’t seen before.  
  
“I wish for that,” he spoke, pointing at her panties. That made Fiore freeze, her sense of elation dwindled. “Specifically, I wish to use it. Something I know I could not have done while you were still ridden in that chair of yours.”   
  
It was amazing, honestly. How easily the conversation shifted to such a horrendous topic, but how little his voice changed at the same time.   
  
“I-I beg your pardon?” Fiore asked, sure that she must have misheard him. “You wish for what of me?”  
  
“To fuck you.” She had not. “You are a beautiful woman and a member of a magus household who gave up what I can assume are high-grade magical crests so that she could walk again. That shows a devotion to your cause, misguided as it may seem, but one that attracts me. Complete with a body like yours, it is only natural you would attract men of my standing.” Her head slowly shook.  
  
“I-I think… may I request something else?” The leer towards her spoke volumes of how impossible that would be. “Though I do owe you a great amount, would this not be _beyond_ what is normal? I have just, quite literally just, regained the use of my legs, and I have never indulged in any sexual acts…” she paused, unused to using such words so openly. “I have not had sexual intercourse before.” She would not falter though, no matter her awe, surprise, and terror.  
  
“Then it is only natural you should be thrilled I will be your first,” Emerick did not deter as he approached. Fiore pushed her dress back down, suddenly aware how much he _wanted_ to see her panties. “More than that, I am sure the new use of your legs will make the deed all the more exciting for you.” She could and would deny that.  
  
“Could this be a means to ensure your spell worked?” That brought the man up short, so she pressed on. “If you wish to examine me in such a way, then I request it is done in an area more suitable for-”  
  
“Would you prefer I lie and pretend I am _ensuring_ my spell upon your body?” The man spoke with the look of mischief she so often saw on the face of bullies. On those who mocked her brother when they were younger and dismissed her lack of walking when she was elder. “Even if I wished to employ an action as cowardice as lying to get what I want, it would be a poor lie at that. For _I_ was the one who cast the conceptual modification of your spinal column, correcting your sense of feeling and articulation. That reason alone is enough to assure the spell was cast flawlessly.” He put a hand to his chest as she spoke. “And reason enough for you to remember how simple it would be to undue a spell.”  
  
That made her freeze now, and with a terror she did not expect.  
  
“No,” she simply mumbled, staring at his hand, held up as if to snap his fingers and rid her of her legs. Legs that curled towards her body, by her command, not another’s, and held themselves in place. “No, not my legs, not again.” Once was too much, twice was torture, thrice would be her end.  
  
“Then stand, remove your dress, and face the window.” He spun his hand with the motions he desired, and Fiore could only swallow dryly as he did so. She nodded, loathing herself for what was to come, but know that if she wanted to walk to Caules, in pain or not, she had to do this. She had to, and a Magus would not be opposed to using the means as this man was.  
  
Silently, casting her face down to hide the tears she knew were going to be quick to fall, she undid the few buttons at the top of her dress, holding them in place. She turned away from Emerick, stepping away from the table as she reached down, loving once more how she could see her feet standing and supporting her weight, but loathing that she was now going to spread them, so soon after she regained them.  
  
The dress left her body easier than she would have liked, leaving only her bra, panties, and shoes on. And she was facing the window that showed itself outside. Her hands rose to her bra immediately.  
  
_RIP!_ Only to fall to her cunt when her panties were suddenly ripped from her body. That was another mistake  
  
_CLICK!_ Because then the bra strap of her top was undone, forcing it to fall off. She went to turn, to face the obvious man who had done it, but a hand on her shoulder kept her straight, and force a blush over face, and nothing to hide her nakedness anymore.  
  
“I have to say, you are beautiful from behind as you are in front,” Emerick spoke, and despite the joy he had given her with the motion of her legs, she was already beginning to loathe the voice the more she heard it. “A smooth back that shows great care, a set of legs that despite their state of pliancy have a good amount of muscle mass and fat to them, hair that curtains down showing great care in hygiene, and, of course…”  
  
_GROPE!_ Fiore was walked forward as his hands grabbed her rear, squeezing it tightly. It was something she wouldn’t have been able to feel before, but now it made her mind alight as she felt the touch, and knowing just what it meant. She loathed to feel it, and she loved she had it again.  
  
“A fine ass for fucking. Truly a woman that would make a fine bride for any man.” Was that his goal than? To make her his? “Unfortunately, a lack of crests means a lack of a future for any kin you have, so that will not be for me. No, instead, I wish to use your body for what it is good for now.” His words hurt even more.  
  
More than when he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her forward, sending Fiore nearly face first into the glass, hands on the window sill and looking beyond the smooth texture into the daylight outside. She wanted to pull the curtains and hide herself, to ensure those walking outside _wouldn’t_ see her, but she didn’t have a chance.  
  
“You should be thanking me. Now men will have a use for you beyond staring.” That was all the warning the former Forvedge head was able to get.   
  
_SMACK!_ Before he shoved his cock into her cunt.   
  
Stars exploded behind her eyes, like a crest and circle erupting in her mind. As if the magical circuits she had never lost were firing in her mind, her vision was hazed for a moment and body overcome with a fire she couldn’t describe. Her jaw was forced open, tears yet spilled falling from her wide gaze, and body trembling as the strength of her legs, finally failed her.  
  
But the man who had both saved, cursed, and now fucked her decided to grab her instead, holding her by the hips and keeping his hips flush against her ass. She could feel him, just as well as she could make out the cock that was buried deep in her. Buried far deeper than anything, joking or not, had ever gone. Enough that she could swear the air was pounded from her lungs by the thrusts.  
  
“I am not surprised that you are tight,” the man behind her spoke casually, fingers at her ass and hips, kneading her flesh as he fucked her pussy _raw_. “Though I will admit I may have decreased the potassium uptake of your nerves, therefore making the sensation caused by the calcium uptake… lets call it more _extreme!_” His example was made by fucking her again, and Fiore let out a sound between a grunt, moan, and scream of pleasure.  
  
She couldn’t even pretend it hurt anymore. She was balancing on the tips of her toes, doubtlessly on the ground if not for the hold the magus household head had on her rear, and panting as her breasts were swaying back and forth, all in time with the rough fucking and clapping of her ass against the mans’ hips. Her pussy walls _shocked_ her with each brutal entry of the cock, her womb practically screaming in an unending dream as the fucking continued.  
  
Fiore’s nails grabbed at the window sill, biting her lip as the man behind her fondled her ass, pulling and pushing at her malleable cheeks. A place she had lacked sensation before, and believed forth right that she would never have feeling again, and now she was feeling a man, a stranger, a family-head magus, playing with her freely. All the former magus could do in response was let out whimpering noises of defeat the longer the abuse went on for. Past her arms shaking, past the flushed face she wore, trying to bury herself in the crook of her own arm, and even beyond the way sweat began to pour down her legs, she felt something else. The most self-betraying emotion she had ever experienced, and she could do nothing to stop it.  
  
Pleasure.  
  
“I can see you don’t lack in sensation. Vasovagal responses are usually tricky, but their response is proof positive that you have complete control over your lower extremities again.” The pride the Château head spoke with was drowning to Fiore, more so than any speech she had to endure from her father, or pity that was offered by her other family members. “Though the word spasm has been degraded by the commoners, I can at least use the term correctly to describe my observations with your legs. Legs I have fixed for you.”  
  
And he had to rub it in, she knew. Rub in his kind deed as if it were salt in the wound of her past. She bit her lip now, brown hair shivering as her body nearly convulsed under his touch. Convulsed, twitched, spasmed, and… and…  
  
_“GHHH~~!_” She bit her lip as he craned her back, smothering her breasts against the glass she was being fucked into. All while her pussy walls clamped down against the cock that was still spearing into her, and unrelentingly making use of her hole. He did that while white spots danced across her gaze and reality seemed warped to her.  
  
She had jut cum, and he kept _fucking her_. No, he was doing _much_ more than that.  
  
He was putting his hand over her pussy and stomach, fondling the folds that his dick was beating into and out of, the slobber of drool that came out of her shivering maw and lower lips, and fondling her naked body. Something _no man_ had done before, but he acted as if she was born for this reason alone. Those blue eyes of his were crueler than any fate she had witnessed before.   
  
“You are reacting with higher than normal sensitivity levels,” Emerick noted almost passively. _Passively_, even as he rubbed his finger through over her_ clit_! She could hear the liquid she’d been excreting schlick and flick across the floorboards with the action! “That is interesting, as degradation of the nervous system due to non-use is common. I would think this a form of spondylosis or simple inactive atrophy, but you appear to have complete, if not _enhanced_ sensation.” And the vile man proved it in spades.  
  
_SMACK!_ “_HIIGHHH~~_” Fiore still squawked out like a parrot, feeling spit fly from her mouth as her back bowed with the blow. The feeling of his hand spanking her ass sent wild fire and electricity through her back, another sensation she _loathed_ to _love_. Her hips were shaking desperately from the touch alone, and the heinous blow did not assist!   
  
In so many minutes, she had cum _twice!_  
  
“_UGH!” _And the tight grip on her from behind, complete with the man bending over her, told her that he was up to much the same. She could do nothing as he did so, hands moving up the side of the windows as her breasts and face were pressed into the glass, feeling the coolness of the material practically _melt_ under the heat and force of fucking she was enduring.  
  
The glass was shaking with the man’s increase in tempos, and her face was turned sideways as she was smooshed into it. Was she being watched because of that? Were there people who could see her being fucked like this? Was she about to have _another_ orgasm over the man who was fucking her pussy like a toy, and getting ready for his load!? The idea was almost terrifying.  
  
“Almost there, _almost there_,” the man hissed into her ear, dominating her beyond what her senses could handle. Before she even realized it, Fiore’s tongue was out and _dragging_ against the glass with how much ecstasy was being slammed into her from behind, ruining her pussy that had _just_ gained feeling back into it, and now was being fucked by a cock that had no right to consider itself normal by size. Her pussy was sore, her cheeks were red, her legs were tired. And… and…  
  
Sure enough, she came, _again._  
  
This time, in tandem with Emerick Château behind her.  
  
“_GAAAAHAHhhahah~~!_” Her voice finally let out through her orgasms, spasming as if a Gandre was shot into her, and ruining her perception of the world around her. She could hardly tell up from down, let alone pain from pleasure. Her entire body was loose, too loose, as her auburn hair stuck to her sweat drenched skin, mouth held ajar by the lack of force to keep it shut. Her tongue lolled out all the same, dribbling drools across the glass she had been fucked against.  
  
Carefully, with more care than she imagined the man would have, Fiore was drawn back from the window, the little chill it gave her fleeting and leaving the rest of her body ensnared by heat. From the top of her red-faced head to the bottom of her curled toes. Everything was alight with fire, electricity, brimstone, or _sex_.  
  
Her body was put on the ground, almost as delicately as she was used to being lain in the bath. Unlike then, she could still feel her legs beneath her, twitched as the residuals of her multiple orgasms hit her one by one, like pokes at her core to make her legs twitch, a sign of life she doubted she could otherwise give. She must have looked pathetic and wanton. Just the way she imaged _Emerick_ wanted her.  
  
“That is a fine look on you.” She was 100% correct, it seemed. “I knew a former magus such as yourself would have a great deal of strength and ability to fuck. You may be surprised how few candidates there are in these halls who are worthy of my cock. You are one of the few blessed to have received it.”  
  
Her vision cleared enough to see the man, and his cock, hanging above her. She thought it a guillotine for a moment, prepared to lay a heavy burden on her soul, one she was not sure she could readily accept. A burden her convulsing and spasm wrecked body could turn away from as it lowered to her, closer and closer  
  
_Smack!_ Before hitting her in the face with it, smearing his cum, _her fluids_, and whatever swat was generated between them. It hit her lolled out tongue at the same moment, and it was almost enough to make her gag and vomit. Almost, but not quite enough. Not enough for her, the once prideful and composed elder sister, to drag the tongue back into her mouth, forcing herself to taste the cum and fluids that had hit it.   
  
“Well, you take your time recovering your strength. The holistic approach to ensuring you can maintain longevity in your limbs is crucial. So, ensure that you maintain a good body strength and don’t over tax your nervous system, or else those guards I put in place may fail.” The simplicity he spoke with, after a decidedly _non_-_casual_ act, made the twitching Fiore gurgle around nothing. That made the monster chuckle all the more. “Be sure to take care now. And, if you ever want to feel that again, just look for my family home.”  
  
With a click of the door, he was gone. Gone and leaving Fiore alone with her despair. She had to wonder now.   
  
Would Caules even recognize her anymore?


	3. Interlude: Social Gathering

Magus, like most nobles, enjoyed socializing with one another. Not for the conventional reasons such as contact, discussion, merriment, or other assumingly frivolous actions, but because it was a chance to compare and contrast. To see the state of affairs between either rival houses, independent magi, or possible prospects for joint ventures moving forward. Though these were often the reasoning for any meeting, the benefit of a social convention was to allow the natural sense of randomness in the world, directed by the Root, to allow for a chance of a beneficial reaction to occur.  
  
As such, no magus attended a dinner party or meal without preparations to speak of what they were doing. It was true for the Edelfelts, Luvia as the current head and prepared to speak with those who were gathering, and it was true for the Forvedge’s, Caules present with his sister Fiore present to assist him. Though they were different in ranking and age, as were many others present, it was perhaps the one time where the difference in generations were able to mingle.  
  
Though this was not a party blessed with the present of any Lord of the Clocktower, there were still heads of families that stretched back generations prior, to some showing of a pedigree that made them stars in the room. It was difficult not to notice them, surrounded by potential allies and those looking to collaborate and supposed projects, but like any stars in the endless sky, the bodies around them were not short themselves in drawing the satellites.   
  
Luvia noted this as she watched a couple of the more recognizable families intermingling, smiling as she saw the content between them hidden by kind words and drink. Only a simple quip and they may begin a blood bath. Here she was, on the other hand, swirling a bottle of fine champagne, wearing a dress she had picked specifically to stand out in the room, and looking for a good magus to approach, or for one to find her.  
  
She hoped it would happen soon, for her rival, and a _despicable_ one at that, seemed to have already done the same.  
  
“Hello, Luvia,” the girl with long black hair approached, a crimson dressed to match her ribbons, smiling with a gleam that was likely tempered in flames. Her heels clicked across the floor, wearing all that was necessary for a proper mage, but a whisper away from throwing gems at her. “It is good to see you are doing well. I feared you would be too busy to attend an event such as this.” The blonde put a hand to one of her curled locks, pushing it over her shoulder before she responded.  
  
“Of course, I would make time for this,” she spoke in a tone that brokered no confusion. “It is the duty of any house head to ensure the growth of their family. And while mine _certainly_ isn’t in any desperate need to plant roots, I would be remiss to not look for fine prospects either.” Neither girl lost their grin at one another, not even when the Edelfelt head turned her gaze to the man beside the girl. “So, Tohsaka, who is this man with you? A butler you wish to flaunt? A homunculus perhaps?” She had already seen the Einzeberns showing off their usual false humans, so it was far from an impossibility.   
  
“Not in the slightest,” the upturned nose from the Tohsaka family head returned, before lowering herself again in a grin. “This is my apprentice, Shirou Emiya.” She introduced the boy, though clearly possessing the traits of a man. He filled out the suit he wore nicely, and his red hair was endearing, reminding her of home.  
  
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Edelfelt,” he spoke first, holding out a hand to her. Luvia smiled as she offered her own back, watching as he bowed his head towards her. Respectful as well, a sure plus. “Rin has told me a lot about your capabilities as a mage. I wish I could compare.” That was as far as he got before his _master_ pulled him back by the collar.  
  
Luvia felt her grin grow, truly content that she attended this party now. Though she may make no grand connections, seeing the backwards girl stumble over her own apprentice was a sure sight to see.   
  
“You’ll have to forgive my apprentice he is so _self-condescending _at times.” Luvia could only grin as the boy chuckled at the girl’s display. Kind, sure, but clearly lacking any of the capabilities of a magus. He befits a backwards girl like Rin Tohsaka. “He has shown a level of projection magic that is not only able to emulate the memories of tools traced, but _additionally_ improve upon them. In short, with enough mana, he is able to refabricate even semi-divine constructs, as shown through the Holy Grail war we participated in.” Luvia felt her smile dip.  
  
“Tracing?” She repeated, sure she misheard. The sure nod of the dark-haired girl did not falter, and even the shy boy only nodded his own tuft red head. “Was that not a craft for merely demonstrating crest hypothesis? What can you make with that which is so valuable?” It wasn’t mockery this time, but honesty curiosity. The boy seemed to shy and Rin, the hound that she was, too eager, for it to not have a catch.  
  
“Oh sorry, he can’t show you,” The Tohsaka girl spoke up. Luvia did _not_ miss the boy’s lips open and shut, ending in a sideways grin as the dark-haired house head stood in front of him. “It would be inappropriate to demonstrate that left of magecraft in a room like this. A magus’s craft is his lifeblood after all, and exposing it so flippantly, what kind of master would I be if I let my apprentice misbehave like that?” Her smile was sharp as she hid a hand behind her back.   
  
Well hidden as the arm was, her shorter stature than the boys did nothing to hide his look of discomfort. How intriguing, but ultimately pointless.  
  
“Well, I congratulate you on finding such an apprentice,” Luvia started, concocting a speech in her head. “It must have been worth letting your family stew in that backwards town for so long, just to find that one rose to pluck. A shame you did not join me amongst the rest of the lilies, where we have gem vaults as large as stadiums and contracts prepared to sell them.” Her lips curled as she saw Rin furrow her brow at her. Good, let her stew.  
  
“Oh? Money and prestige, is that all you care for?” Rin voiced with her head tilted back. Her arms were folded beneath her chest, a position Luvia found herself mimicking as she sat in her chair. “And here I was thinking the purpose of events such as these were to showcase efforts made in one’s magecraft. Don’t tell me you’ve been stewing in wealth and _letting yourself go_.” The grin she wore was feral, and Luvia felt her own face heat up.  
  
“I’ll have you know that _I_ have been hard at work negotiating deals and partnerships with _other_ magus families throughout the Clocktower. A privilege _I_ am blessed to be able to do without have to resort to begging for scraps.” She pointed at the boy next to him. A fine man, no doubt, but he was clearly a first-generation magus. _Nothing_ to write home for.  
  
The heat that flushed through Rin’s face, however was.  
  
“Well,” she started, biting out a comment. The boy, Shirou if she recalled, put a hand on her shoulder. It made the backwater girl take in a slow breath. “If you_ have_ been so busy with this. Perhaps you can show me one of these _spectacular_ dealings you have made.” Luvia felt her smile slip at the comment. The Tohsaka girl didn’t miss it, _unfortunately_. “Oh? Don’t tell me you have nothing to show for your efforts? Nothing but words and promises?” She ground her teeth at the accusation.  
  
Her eyes flickered about her, looking for either an escape or person she could call upon for such a favor. But none she could see would easily be able to help her, let alone assist her in escaping the damnable situation.   
  
“Ohohoho?” Rin let out, putting the back of her hand to her lips as she laughed. “Might you be trying to jest your way out of your inactivity? Letting your family fortune stew and prop up an inattentive lifestyle?” Luvia glowered at the woman some more, ignoring the man behind her gentling speaking the disgusting girl’s name. She would not stand for this kind of insult! She would-  
  
“Ah! There you are Luvia.” Freeze her blood and gladly die to avoid this situation.  
  
That was her thought when she heard the voice, then saw the man approaching. The man who had already taken _much_ more from her than just her pride. Wearing the same smile now as he did then.  
  
“I was hoping you would be here, perchance with that husband of yours,” the blonde Frenchman spoke, accent undetectable, quite unlike the grin that spread infectiously from his lips to his eyes. His suit was as kind to him as ever, and the Edelfelt family head knew just what sickness was hidden beneath it. “A pity he could not attend, though clearly not from a lack of effort. However, it is good to see you have made other friends.” The man held out his hand towards Rin and Shirou, the pair of them watching him. “My name is Emerick Château, fifth generation head of the Château magecraft of medicinal thermology.”  
  
Though she loathed the man, Luvia felt small satisfaction at seeing the Tohsaka girl’s brow raise.  
  
“O-Oh?” Rin returned. “Well, I am Rin Tohsaka, seventh head of the Tohsaka clan. This is my apprentice, Shirou Emiya.” The boy was introduced again, but next to Emerick, the more manly traits were easier to see. Fortunately for Luvia, so were the differences in prestige.  
  
“I see, fine to meet you both,” he nodded his head towards them. “Unfortunately, Luvia and I have matters to discuss. Anything you have to say can wait for now. Shall we?” He quickly dismissed the pair of them as he looked towards the spiral haired blonde. The Edelfelt head saw the invitation as a curse, but one she’d mistake gladly for a blessing.  
  
“Of course,” she returned, smiling towards her rival as she stood and stalked off behind the man, letting the backwater girl stew with her lowly apprentice. How appropriate for them. Unfortunately, she knew that good fortune wasn’t to last long for her.  
  
They had only walked a short distance through the crowd, and through a few nobles conversing, and tot the short corridor leading to the bathrooms. She sourly hoped that it wouldn’t be what she was expecting, hoping that instead he was merely giving her an out. When he turned towards her, however, that dream quickly vanished.  
  
He was smiling at her, staring at her as she stood near the entrance to the short bath. Arms crossed, posture tall, and looking so much less of a man than the boy Rin had brought with her. And yet, despite it, this was the man that her father had approved of, and she was in an indentured relationship with. One that she knew, beyond magic and into instinct, was one he was about to collect on.   
  
Luvia knew what he was doing the moment he pushed her against the wall, out of sight of the rest of the guests and biting her lip so she wouldn’t make a noise. It proved a justly action when he hiked her dress up with a foot, quickly letting his hand take over and running up her thighs, bared to the air. She sucked in air through her teeth, only to nearly bit her lips when his fingers found her panties.  
  
_RIP!_ Her nails dug into the wall behind her as he ripped the flimsy garment off.   
  
Her eyes were wide as she stared at him, hoping that she would give off enough animosity to _burn_ him with her gaze. But all it did instead was allow the Château house head to stare back, holding up her lavender panties for her to see, ripping in two parts and now more of a mangled piece of fabric than anything else.   
  
“Easy to tear, much like your façade of control,” Emerick noted in front of her, smile anything but kind. “If you want to be able to stand up to your betters, you need to make sure you are better. Knowing it and proving it are two different things entirely, like the lymphoid system against the vascular system.” Even as he spoke, his hands hadn’t stopped moving. It was still reaching up her thighs, playing with her like he had before. “For example. How best to keep one quiet when you want to show your dominance.”  
  
_SCHLICH~!_ Luvia’s answer to that query was put her hand to her mouth, biting on her fingers to keep the moan from escaping her. One that doubtlessly would have come forth as she was _finger banged_ in the short alley.   
  
“Ah, that does work,” Emerick sounded as if he _complimented her_. She despised it. “Though you may want to put more effort into it. You’ll need as much if you want to keep your pride intact.” His either apathy or lack of care for his own pride was a question Luvia didn’t have the breath to question.  
  
Not when she found her leg _hoisted_ up, putting her body into near _splits_ and forcing her dress to run up to her gut. Her cunt and ass were exposed as they were now, like a window beneath her, and only a singular leg, on _a high-heel_, balancing her. That, and then her leg Emerick lifted being put over his shoulder. She glowered at him some more, but he merely flicked his hand over her again, as if to silence her. _It worked_.  
  
And the spiral-haired blonde_ endured_ again as the man who was promising great contracts with her family began to play with her cunt much like he had during their first discussion. Playing with her wet folds and making her shiver in his gasp. Nails played through her gloves and against the wall behind her, all while he let her raised leg balanced on her shoulder. Her eyes misted as she looked over his opposite side, hoping he’d finish soon before… before… someone came.  
  
Like the person she was staring at now. Despite the shivers running up her, her body froze.  
  
It was a woman, dressed in a fine gown and with auburn hair that raced past her shoulders. A woman with eyes of blue and shaking in their sockets. A woman whose dress was tanned as a sun-died beach, but appeared as still as the ocean in front of it. All of that was easily visible to the dutiful and detail oriented Edelfelt head.  
  
Just as she could not ignore the woman was still standing there, and _staring_.  
  
Staring as Luvia had her leg hoisted up and _bared_ her pussy towards her. Her pussy being played with, fingered, and _fucked_ in front of her. Her and the dozens of other magus who were but a short walk and turn away from seeing her. All of them… and they only needed this woman’s cry of surprise to let it be known. Her mind was shattering at the prospect.  
  
And it was making her pussy _clench_.  
  
“A good effort. Your cunt really is strong. Maybe there is some connection between aggravation and muscular control, beyond adrenaline and dopamine exposure.” Emerick spoke, as if he _weren’t_ caught as well. She waved her head, _loathing_ how her long blonde locks beat at the wall as she did so, curled ends twisting backwards. Her singular leg rooted to the ground _shook_ like her _cunt_ as she snarled, doing her utmost to not _drool_ and _ruin_ her appearance the final notch she had left! “Hmm… what are you looking at?” The Chateau head finally asked, looking behind him.  
  
The woman still stood there, shaking and surprisingly not on the floor in shock, let alone yelling in a panic. Luvia wasn’t sure yet if that was a blessing or a curse, seeing as she was being forced into the most ludicrous position she had ever before in her life, and all to let a man _finger her pussy_ while she was still clothed, at a _noble gathering!_  
  
“Ah, Fiore,” Emerick spoke to the other woman, staring at them with a mouth agape. “I didn’t expect you back here so soon. You really are a dutiful girl, aren’t you? Especially with your legs to help you get where you need to faster.”   
  
Luvia was no different, but she _knew_ her sense of dread far surpassed this stranger. That said, it appeared their shock was a match.  
  
“Apologies. I seem to have gotten side tracked here. Let your brother know I’ll be over to see him in a second.” His eyes returned to the Edelfelt head, blonde hair a tied _mess_ behind her, but she couldn’t dare take her eyes from the auburn-haired woman behind her. Or how she was _standing_ and not _screaming_. “I just need to finish with this dealing, then I’ll be over to speak with him.”  
  
_SCLCHT~!_ Luvia bit down on her finger as the _bastard_ pushed _another_ finger into her pussy, holding her leg up against the wall and clearly trying to force her to moan. Even worse, now it was in the accompanying gaze of _another magus_. Perhaps not a house head, but no different from the worse! One that was staring with her legs pushed together, stretched out as Luvia’s were, with a hand to her mouth to silence herself, as Luvia fought to keep herself from screaming and… and…  
  
And who nodded her head at Emerick’s words… like _Luvia_ had. Her mind was still for a moment as she realized it.  
  
_“GHI~!_” A moment that the Château head decided was _prime_ to _twist her clit_. She couldn’t suppress the whine that came out of her now, not even when she felt her pussy _clamp_ down on the fingers inside of her. Leg already lifted, it _hooked_ itself over the man’s shoulder, holding him close as she felt her walls trying and wring liquid from rock.  
  
Her body shook, dress nearly ruined, as she felt liquid spilling from her cunt. Her body nearly _slumped_ to the ground, an act that would have ruined her attire and make-up in a single motion. If the _foreplay_ she had just been made to endure was not horrific enough for it. She already knew her hair was going to be a sign for _any_ knowledgeable magus.   
  
“Well done, Luvia,” the man congratulated her, and she only glowered at his praise, wishing he was weaker so her cunt could at least push him out! All it did instead was making shots of pleasure roll through her. “It’s good to see you have _some_ knowledge on how to control yourself. Maybe your grandchildren will be comparable to me someday. Certainly not any time soon.” Oh, what she’d do to this man…  
  
Her eyes turned towards Fiore, the seemingly plain girl standing there, shaking like a dog. For once, Luvia could not place blame on her. She was the one who was _trembling_ like a _tamed bitch_. The realization made her glower. The man, however, only stood back and let her leg fall. Luvia panicked.  
  
Her arms reached out, grasping at the wall to keep herself steady, even as her dress fell back into place. It hid her lower nakedness, but did _nothing_ to stem the fluids that continued to river their way down her thighs. The man wasn’t even facing her, the decretory state she was in _entirely_ his fault! She’d need to spend _half an hour_ in the bath to fix her doubtlessly ruined appearance.  
  
“Fiore, hold these.” That could wait, however, as she saw Emerick hand _her_ panties to this woman. _HERS_. “Luvia now, I’m going to meet this woman’s younger brother. It shouldn’t be long. In the meantime, try and ensure that the nearby tea room is open for us. We should be back shortly.” Tears started to stain her gaze, and she was shamed for it. “Now Fiore, I do want to talk to your brother. So, to ensure you are tight-lipped, why don’t you put that fabric in your mouth.”  
  
Her shame increased, a match to the flaming response across the woman’s face. The man didn’t blink, however, and the Château only put fingers under her palm and raised her ripped panties to this stranger’s face. Her eyes were tearing now as well.  
  
“Be quick about it, or else there will be far more questions that merely why you are suddenly mute.” The woman swallowed, Luvia saw.   
  
Just as well as she saw her put her satin panties into her mouth, clenching her teeth and grimacing. She could place no blame on her now. That was a truly disgusting act.  
  
“Excellent. Well, let’s be off. My time is precious and your brother is one person I need to speak to.” He put an arm around the girl and walked away from the Edelfelt head without a glance towards her. Fiore did, and Luvia watched her as well, but both silent for different reasons. Silent and trapped.   
  
Luvia wanted to run. But she couldn’t damn her family. She had no where to run to at all.

* * *

  
Fiore was clenching her jaw as hard as she could, to the point she was sure her teeth were about to crack. She couldn’t help it if they did, not now.  
  
She had come to this party to assist her brother, someone who wasn’t very sociable and needed to make connections, if they wanted their family to survive another generation. She was someone who was easy to talk to, and if her best role at the moment for her younger sibling was to be the bridge with others, then she would do it. That bridge, at the moment, was one she could not even _think_ to make.  
  
Even _if_ she had already introduced her brother to many house heads and studying magi, she knew that she would be expected to speak further through the night. Her dress was worn _specifically_ to attract attention of others, and had done a fine job at getting her brother close to others. Though she knew little of Olga Animusphere, her father had a great set of relics to his name, supposedly even the tenth ring of King Solomon. Having her and her brother speak was a true show of his growing confidence, and their family’s fortune.  
  
To think that Marie, daughter to the head of the Astronomy division of the Clocktower, would be interested in them. Caules seemed to speak easily enough with her, and Fiore was only too happy to see him reaching higher for the stability of their family.  
  
While Caules spoke and made dealings and relationships, she stood by and kept him wary of too profitable propositions. He could not forget that they were among magi, and magi saw to themselves before the betterment of others. Perhaps not to the extremes of Atlas, but certainly more so than either of them would. And one such figure was here, and it was her seemingly growing misfortune that had Fiore stumble across him on the way to the restroom.  
  
And now, she was being _led_ by Emerick Château, back to her brother, with _another woman’s panties_ quite literally rolled up and _stuffed in her mouth_.  
  
The sensation was a disgusting one, but one she endured as she had to. Though not a hard deal, the magus _clearly_ had the ability to gift her motion in her legs, and just as likely take it away again. She expected a fine deal from her brother, the entrepreneurs their family was currently acting as. But instead, he wanted… _deviancy_ from her.   
  
Fucking her shortly after she had gotten her legs, making her cum in an open room that overlook the Clocktower garden, then _promising_ her for future _check-ups_. She had thought the situation monstrous enough, but clearly, he did not see it as satisfactory for his unsavory ways.  
  
So, she was forced to endure _cum soiled_ panties in her mouth whilst her brother and the despicable head of the Château family discussed with one another, like old friends.  
  
“I really _can’t_ thank you enough for what you’ve done!” Caules was shamelessly thanking the magus in front of him, a bright smile his face, youthful as it was even for a newly minted house head. Even more so when he was flanked by his older sibling, the woman for whom he was so thankful for. “I seriously thought that the Root was punishing us for some deed I the past. But for you to show up and help her out… I-I can’t even put to words how great this is.”  
  
“You don’t need to think long on it,” the magus returned, blond hair glowing to match his bright smile. Still his eyes curved up to mirror as above so below. “We are magi, after all, and I heard of a family that had thought ahead to have redundancies in their craft, so events as unfortunate as yours did not mean the end of the line, is something I am still interested in.” The words only made Caules shake his hands harder.  
  
“Then I’m even more thankful to hear it. As the head of the Forvedge family, I’d be _more_ than happy to participate and lend partial funding to any projects you have curiosities for,” the magus returned, mixing too readily the desires of his heart with the needs of his mind. His sister pursed her lips next to him, lightly tapping his shoulder to get him to notice. He shook his head, brown mop waving a bit as he caught himself. “W-Within reason of course. I can only for now say _our_ household is looking to act as a more of a supportive manner with supplies, mana, and mediation then ongoing projects ourselves.”  
  
“As I would expect,” the blonde returned, smile unabated. “And I am thankful that Fiore has already volunteered to help me with what she can.” His hand indicated the long auburn-haired sister, who only nodded her head at his mention. “Though her crests have been transferred, she is still very knowledgeable, and makes for an incredible assistant in most studies. Intelligent as I am, I need eyes on all when I am conducting large scale thermology.” Caules nodded his head eagerly at the man.  
  
“Of course! And my sister has said that she wants to continue to help our family. I’m sure helping the man who gave her the ability to walk again back to her will be something she’d be happy to do, right nee-san?” The man broke into an accent as he spoke, putting his sister on the spot.  
  
The eldest of the two widened her gaze, staring at her brother with a look unfit for one supposedly filled with eagerness. Panic was more appropriate, and one that the younger sibling had no knowledge of. She looked between the two of them, lips tight to hide the fabric in her mouth. Humiliation wouldn’t be the end of it if she was found out. The damnation of her _family_ was more appropriate.  
  
“I’m sure it’s fine,” the _disgusting magus_ responded instead, doubtlessly only protecting himself with the words. “I’m sure your sister is just tired from walking around so much. Even if she had yet to produce visible signs of atrophy, her legs are still strengthening the inactivity of her muscles, nervous pathways lacking the potassium needed to produce much strength.” The smooth explanation seemed to settle her brother, to Fiore’s conflicted sense of reason.  
  
“Is that true, nee-san?” Caules asked, eyes still on her. With no other option easily available to her, she only nodded her head, admitting failure on her part for exposing the man, but doing what she could to not damn her brother. Not when he was speaking to house lords of the Clock Tower. “Well maybe you should step out for the night. I-I’m sure I can handle everything else from here. Olga-agh I mean Ms. Animusphere wants to see about some of the relics we have stored, so I can talk to her about those.” He turned his head from her and back to Emerick. “I believe she suspects we have rich catalysts for summoning rituals. I can’t say more than that.” Fiore_ wanted_ to say that was already too much. Instead, once more, she only nodded.  
  
“Then don’t keep her waiting. I’ll forgive you for leaving for now.” The wave of the Château’s hand felt more like he was dismissing a servant than a proper magus. “I’ll keep your sister safe. You can trust me with her.” No, he truly couldn’t.  
  
“I know, a-and thank you again.” Fiore watched her brother _fight_ the instinct to lower his head, thankfully, and instead walking away from them with only another look over his shoulder. She watched him vanish into the crowd, looking for the daughter of the Astronomy Division head, and hoping he gained something bountiful from this night. They _needed_ it, especially if Fiore was doing her part to keep their name from being sullied.  
  
_Grope!_ But the hand grabbing her ass as Emerick stood _close_ behind her did little to satisfy her pride.  
  
“Your brother is dutiful, but too naïve for my tastes.” It was only the fabric in her mouth that kept Fiore from responding, and knowing that letting _panties_ drip from her would not go unnoticed about a room full of magi. “But his inattentiveness is my boon. Or rather, I should say _our_ pleasure.” No, it was his and his alone. The satisfaction of her body meant _nothing_ of pleasure. “But to make sure we are on the same page… perhaps I should modify that crest I put upon your back.”  
  
Fiore had enough time to notice Emerick put a hand on the small of her back, then enough to know that she couldn’t open her mouth in a gasp without revealing the lavender garments she was _nearly eating_. It already disgusted her how much her saliva was mixing with the cum of… of that _poor_ woman.   
  
_TWING!_ Fiore clenched her jaw until she thought her teeth would crack.  
  
Standing in the middle of a room for of magi, Fiore felt her pussy _clench_. Clench as a trail of liquid crowd and collect on her own panties, soiling them and nearly running down her legs. Her feet wobbled unsteadily on her heels, nearly falling over as her back arched and mind sparked with a pleasured sensation, dousing her mind. What… what _was_ that.  
  
“If you’re curious, it was a sort of reinforcement spell,” the man behind her spoke, voice _nothing_ but filled with pride. “Rather than condensing the space of your skin and reinforcing them, I encouraged stronger responses in your peripheral nervous system, less necessary intake of the elements needed to generate an impulse. Quite simply, if I so much as _touch_ you.” The man did so again, hand running down her ass as she stood behind her, concealing himself.  
  
But it felt like he was _reaming_ into her ass with the touch, as if she were putty in his hands and trying to walk forward on the balls of her toes. It was so mind numbingly _impossible_ to focus, and she was only _just_ managing to keep her mouth from opening and letting the lavender panties spill out. Her auburn hair felt _wet_ with sweat, and she knew she had to be tearing soon, ruining her make-up, in the full display of some of the most powerful in the Clock Tower.  
  
“My my, while that look does suit you, I believe it’s one that should be shared with others.” Emerick put his hand on her chin, tilting her face towards his. It wasn’t until he ran a thumb over her lips that she realized _some_ of the underwear had slipped past her teeth, shoving it back in place. “I’m sure Luvia is prepared for us now. So let’s be off.” No further conversation was brokered.  
  
Instead, he turned and walked away, Luvia falling behind him in step. She did so out of necessity, not desire. Out of need, not want. She _wanted_ to scream for help, but _knew_ that the magus would only instead be curious if this man’s methods were more applicable on others, or how to replicate it. She would be treated as an object rather than a person, as was so often the case before she got her circuits, and even soon after.  
  
“Hey, Rin, did you see that?” The curious voice spoke up aside her, and Fiore turned to see a red-haired youth standing there, taller than most and _far_ more attractive than the Château head. “I think something’s wrong with her.” The girl he spoke to, however, a girl from the Japanese districts by her features and hair, only shook her head.  
  
“Just ignore them Shirou. Whatever that man is up to, it’s no concern of ours. Besides, if he’s working with Luvia, then it’s the people _they _have an interest in that need help.” Fiore said nothing more. The decision was taken out of her hands.  
  
Legs feeling like a thousand fingers were massaging them, a couple of hands on her pussy, she walked behind Emerick towards the room Luvia Edelfelt had reserved. She was solemn as she walked towards whatever her fate would be. 

* * *

  
Neither woman was surprised to see the other when they entered the room with the Château head. Luvia was already sitting at a chair, back facing the door and looking over her shoulder with a look of discontent. Fiore entered behind the man, shutting the door as quickly as she could, shame staining her face. Only Emerick appeared unaffected by it all, walking in as if it were his home, speaking no differently.  
  
“Though you may have not been properly introduced, allow me start,” the man held his hand towards Luvia, the woman tightening her grip on the arm rest. “Luviagelita Edelfelt, newest head to the Edelfelt household, pioneer of gem thermology, and with Gandr spells of mass consequence. And Fiore Forvedge,” he put his other hand towards the auburn-haired girl, making her flinch under his look. “_Former_ head of the Forvedge family, before transferring her crests to her younger sibling, but before then possessing a keen-eye for Mystic Code crafting and catalyst acquisition. If it is not obvious, both of you, directly or not, have benefitted from my fine craft.”  
  
Ignoring the blonde what they could, both girls looked at one another. No fault was put from one the other, only grim realization for the situation they were in. There was no sympathy amongst magi, not when it came to the consequences of their decisions. Instead, Luvia only nodded towards Fiore… and the other girl put a hand to her mouth, drawing out the now slobber-drenched and ripped panties from her maw.   
  
“Oh, by the Root,” Luvia silently cursed as she saw it, loathing what came out of the girl’s mouth, even more so knowing that she was nude beneath her dress.  
  
“No, no. Not the Root.” The Château house head spoke blissfully. “Just a woman knowing that my word is important, and knowing that it would be improper to go against it.” As he spoke, he reared his hand back, slamming it forth against Fiore’s behind.  
  
“_GGUUUUGH~~~_,” Luvia couldn’t look away when the girl’s mouth all but exploded outwards, her jaw flying open, slobber coming forth, and tongue extending in shock. Even her eyes crossed as the pleasure over came her. Her body turned and stared, horrified at the sight. Especially when the noble woman fell to her knees, dress doubtlessly ruined beneath her.   
  
“Such a reaction, all because a lower excitation level was required in your bundles.” Emerick seemingly adjusted his glove as he stood above the girl. That was before he walked towards Luvia, and the girl all but wishing she could blast him with stones. “Not to worry, I don’t need to do anything like that to you. I don’t need to repeat myself, as I’m sure you are all hanging on everything I say, aren’t you?” His hand come up and grasped her chin.  
  
The spiral haired blonde resisted the urge to spit in his face, pulled closer to him and staring at his malicious grin, look in his eyes the same as his teeth.   
  
“You’re a damnable cretin,” she glowered out, making him draw back. _Good._  
  
“A cretin?” He almost questioned. “I’ll have you know that my diet and health is far above anything you could hope to reach. Cretinism is so far from possibly being related to me, it’d be more accurate to say benefitted with synesthesia. Such an absurd lie as yours is worth punishment.” And with that, he flicked his hand away.  
  
But not before spinning her around, making her trip over herself and fall over lap. She gripped the edges of the couch in front of her, trying to push back, but already too late to stop him pulling her dress over the rear end. With her panties gone, ruined after tearing and being _drooled_ on by the other girl, she instead bared her ass to him and Fiore. Heat stung at her face.  
  
“You do have a fine rear end, one I’m sure your husband-to-be, must appreciate.” _SMACK!_ His appreciation, apparently was, met with him landing a harsh hand on her rear-end. Luvia let out a cry of pain at it. “Oh, come on, that couldn’t have hurt, could it? You may lack any real form of reinforcing magic, but surely you can resist something like this.” _SMACK-SMACK!_  
  
Two more blows sent her keeling forward, bowing her back as she tried to crawl away. Not only from pain, but _loathing_ as she felt her legs _spread_ at the sensation, her pussy clenching all the same, just like when he finger-banged her before, the _bastard_.   
  
“It is such a fine ass, one I’m sure would be worth my cock plowing. I already have once, though, and I’m sure you and Fiore can tell of the pleasures that came from that.” Luvia bit her lip and buried her head in her arms, loathing everything about this. Words were _useless_, as they did nothing before and even less now. “Speaking of, Fiore, what is your opinion of Luvia’s ass? How about her cunt? Don’t they look nice?” The question was posed as he raised his leg and further exposed her to the other woman, like a _whore_.  
  
“She… she looks _lovely._” The compliment was appreciated, whatever miniscule amount of it the Edelfelt head could take. The laughter from the Château head came back just as strong.  
  
“I’m glad you think so! Because I find myself in need of relief, and I am holding you two responsible for it.” He practically _kicked_ Luvia off of him, the girl rolling off and onto her knees. She didn’t bother to adjust her dress, already ruined from the cum that stained its interior. Instead, she looked at Fiore, the other girl who was still hot-faced. Hot-faced and, apparently, enjoying this more than she should.   
  
That was the only reason she could explain the girl’s sudden nakedness. Though it was doubtlessly an order from the bastard in front of them. The one who was stripping himself.  
  
Or, at least, his pants. Enough for him to undo his tucked shirt and unzip the front of his pants, letting them slide down and exposing the cock underneath. Luvia turned her gaze at the sight of it, horrid memories of what it had done to her last time. A sound from Fiore implied the same.   
  
She loathed even more how even a part of her was _impressed_ by the size. Between the suddenness of the sex and the dealings afterwards, she didn’t have time to think more of it. That appeared to be a problem Emerick was looking to compensate, to her utter horror and indignation.  
  
“Aren’t you going to strip as well, Luvia?” The man asked, with the spiral haired blonde realizing, though unkempt, she was the only dressed one in the room. “I can certainly understand waiting for others to help. In that case, Fiore, why don’t you help her out? I’m sure you two are going to need it.” Luvia saw the girl, naked, shivering, and biting her lip as she scuttled closer on her knees.  
  
“I-I’m sorry,” she muttered out, hands already reaching for her. Luvia only sighed as she held up her hands.  
  
“Not your fault,” she muttered back. “It’s his.” And there was neither complaint nor argument, not even from Emerick.  
  
Instead, with a speed only another woman could help with, Luvia’s dress was pulled over her head, baring her body to the room, same as Fiore. That left only Emerick, sitting on a chair in front of both of them, and grinning with his cock erect in front. Neither of the women were happy to see it.  
  
“I hope I don’t need to instruct you both on what you need to do,” he spoke casually to the both of them, the situation be damned. “I’ll have you know I do have to leave sooner than I’d wish, so if don’t want me to make excuses with your name, you’ll both do as your mutual agreements dictate.” His put his hand on his cock, rubbing it up and down once for show.  
  
“You’re a horrible man,” Fiore spoke first, even as she dragged herself closer to him. Knees at his feet, hands on his thigh, and mouth inches from the head of his cock. Regal as she looked in a dress, her appearance was anything but now, sweat faced and panting. “Someone who can give me my legs then… want _this._” She must have timed her words for what she did next.  
  
“_GRLCH~” _Because putting her mouth over his cock, sucking him in as deep as she could go, did manage to make the Château head roll his head back, leaving her insult as the final word. Unfortunately, the final word before he gave the last blow. Luvia was under no illusions he wasn’t about to give the last _load_ as well. She only bit her lip, watching as a stranger of moments ago, now obviously in the same twisted circumstances as herself, was fellating the man that had put her in an entrapped situation.  
  
He held his hand towards her, beckoning her even while the previous Forvedge hair bounced her auburn-haired head up and down at his lap, the sounds of slobber and air rolling from her lips as she did so. Luvia stared for a moment, before affixing her scowl and crawling closer. Close enough to see the other woman’s cheeks hollow out as she serviced his cock, raising and lowering herself, hands at his thigh to keep herself steady.  
  
“While she works the shaft,” Emerick spoke, making her gut wrench again. “Why don’t you _suck my balls?_” The mirth he spoke with was horrifying. More so was him putting a hand beneath his still being blown cock, tapping his sack. Luvia resisted for what she could. “I wouldn’t dawdle, or else I find new reason to withdraw the patents put forth to your family.” Her pride won out over her shame.  
  
The Edelfelt lowered her head closer, hating the sounds of sucking and blowing going on next to her, letting her mouth open and taking in one of the balls of his pubic hair ridden sack. The moment she did, her mouth sucked them in, eyes widening as she did so.  
  
_“CACH~” She_ imagined the balls, held beneath his cock holding his demented seed, would be putrid. Instead, they tasted like Malaysian salt. Nearly divine.   
  
“Like it?” Emerick spoke again. Luvia looked up, even as she began to work her jaw back and forth, letting her tongue _slather _the sack at the same moment Fiore bounced her head up and down. Sounds coming out of her mouth were horrid for her own ears to hear. “Another small modification of my sweat glands. There, after all, no real benefit for letting my waste be ridden through my skin. Least of all a spot I could have women like you clean for me.”  
  
She _hated_ the words, as much as she _hated_ him. But terrifying her even more. It was _not_ his balls in her mouth that she hated. If anything, they were a comfortable consequence of this.  
  
“_GRLCH~” “CACH~” _Instead now, she and the other girl began to work their way on the cock, lathering the man’s dick with their seat and efforts, drinking what they could off of it. Any moment that one of them drew back for air, the other was quick to let their tongue ride up the portions missed, sucking in lung full through their noise, savoring what the smelled almost as much as what they tasted. It was _not_ meant to taste like this, and Luvia hated that it did at all.  
  
Even more than her being shoulder-to-shoulder with another naked woman, their breasts smacking one another as they pushed their heads closer to the dick of the man, drinking in what they could, never able to take the full length down. Even Luvia suffered to get _both_ of his balls in her mouth, even one feeling as if it were more than she could handle. But the effort was there, in mass.  
  
“Well done, both of you,” the ma spoke as he put hands on their head, massaging them and bringing them closer to him. Their faces were mixing between their sweat and tears not even noticing how they were pushing themselves against one another until they were flush. The dick was all they were focused on, and it was all Fiore could care for, with her heightened senses. Luvia just wanted it finished. “Now, choose who receives.”  
  
_“GAH~” “HINGH~”_ Both women let out as he wrenched their heads back, pulling them until they were open mouth and tongues lolled out in front of him, dick rising in front of their gaze like a pillar.  
  
_SPLURT!_ One that shot its load onto their faces, glazing them.   
  
Luvia tried to raise her hand, but it was already too late. Fiore tried to turn away, but she only smeared herself against the other woman. They were coated in two, then three, then four spurts of the man’s cock, encouraged and drawn out by their efforts. The heat of it staining their vision and ruining their bodies.  
  
Then, like dolls, he dropped them.  
  
Both girls fell forward, panting heavily, into the man’s lap. His cock was lain between their faces, the only boundary keeping the girls from being lip-to-lip with one another, naked to boot. Such a scene would have been indecent for any circle of the magi higher class, and here they were doing it with the consequence of shame over their heads. Luvia’s legs shivered, hating the wrenching her pussy was giving her. The sounds Fiore made implied much the same.  
  
But all that shame did nothing to quell the burning lust.  
  
“A fine job, ladies. Acceptable enough for me,” Emerick spoke to the pair of them, sitting comfortably on his chair as the pair of once noble magi had their heads in his lab, both of the tongues out and tasting his used balls. The hot breath of want, not disgust came from their panting lips, eyes hazed over with lust. The man leaned back at the sensation. “But I do have to go now. So, do take care to clean up, perhaps associate with one another, and be prepared for another visit. Never know when someone like me will have to admit he needs a bit of help.”  
  
The humor and mirth were _horrifying_ to hear, nearly as much as either girl realizing that they had that man’s cock in their mouth, and already were soiled with his seed in their cunts days before. He stood above them, that rightfully too-long of a member acting like a whip to them, and drawing their gaze as he walked by them. It was tucked into his pants, drawn up, and given him a passable appearance.  
  
“I know the two of you will become fast friends,” he said as he approached the door. “Be sure to leave room for one more.” The implication was made before he opened and shut the door behind him.   
  
Luvia and Fiore, however, only stared at one another, naked and sex-drenched, nobility nearly ruined, self-respect in tatters, and wondering how they could do anything to save the next victim of the man who had put them through this new circle of torment.  
  
They came up with nothing at all.


	4. Gray (Appearance Modification)

There was much to do in the Clocktower, or at least much to hear about. Mages discussing or bragging about their current research, recalling events that had transpired centuries earlier, regaling others with tales of their family’s lineage, and all leading up to some big event that was supposed to reshape or herald the next step in reaching the source of all magic. From what she had seen, and heard, there were many paths to reach such a place.  
  
Some of the magi were discussing the art and crafts of fire magic, looking towards the combustion and destruction of matter to harness energy as a means to find the source of that power. The theory was sound, as even her mentor had told her. All energy was connected, and for the destruction of one thing to summon it, then the controlled destruction of many things could lead towards the doorway of the magic itself.  
  
Others were looking towards the figments of life as a better avenue, trying to analyze things living and extinct to trace to the point in time they were created, hoping to find when they were shaped by the world and put on this earth. Once more, her mentor had said that there was much promise in such a field. She had heard one professor trade a Hydra’s head for the servitude of another magus, so valuable were the specimens. However, she had yet to hear of any new creatures that proved they were getting close.  
  
And between the destruction and creation of life, there were a thousand and one other avenues. Too many for her to memorize and track all by herself. Not that she didn’t try, but listening to others speak for so long, either apathetic or annoyed by her presence, was a tiring feat. Only her mentor, her teacher, gave her any respite from the constant lectures, when they weren’t running into dangerous situations by the request or recommendation of those same Magi.  
  
At the moment though, she had none of that. In the darkness of night, in a more obscure part of the Clocktower grounds, she had no one around her. No one to lecture or speak to her about reaching the Root of the World, not her mentor’s words to give her comfort and guidance, and not even a whisper of wind to let her know the world was only ever a small trek away.  
  
In this moment, Gray instead had only herself.  
  
Herself, her large heavy cloak, and the seemingly hallowed grounds of the Clocktower’s Cemetery.  
  
When she had heard that such a place existed here, she was both enamored and terrified. The only reason she ever witnessed people visiting the dead was to seek guidance on what to do in life. And in her village, that meant trying to find out who to sleep with or where to go. For the Clocktower, where ambition was to find the source of Magic, she was afraid she’d come across many people looking into the shadows for reasons to venture down dark paths.  
  
That was likely one of the stronger reasons Lord El-Melloi didn’t wish to enter the graveyard. Her mentor was a kind and just man, even if he was stern with her. He didn’t have superstitions that couldn’t be explained with magic, but he understood that a cemetery invited solace as often as it did madness. She, however, far preferred the silence.  
  
Grey took slow but long strides as she walked between the tombstones, eyeing them as they were lit by the pale moonlight high above. The casting of clouds slowly revealed name after name, only to cover them once more, hiding them from her silver eyes. She wasn’t worried, as they were not going anywhere.  
  
It was a different cemetery than that from her hometown, but perhaps that was why she liked it. Because she didn’t anticipate her clansmen coming to ask her to sacrifice her soul again, to coax her into that dangerous act her mentor had saved her from. No, instead, here she found peace, among the Magi who hadn’t seen the Root of the World in life, and were instead drawn back to it in death.  
  
She pushed out her cloak as she kneeled down in front of one of the grave markers, her heavy hood hiding much of her face as she gazed upon it. Here lay a man that she had never met, but was fortunate enough to the Clocktower to be given a plot of land on their sacred soil. A place for other Magi to walk, and perhaps consult, when they were not progressing with their work. Though Gray had yet to see it, she was still sure some would. On the nights when she wasn’t here, or during the days when she was busy. A groan rolled from her as that, letting it seemingly roar in the otherwise still air. The loudest sound she had made in some time, and it was hardly more than a sigh.  
  
“Such a regretful noise. Is something ailing you?” The statement, and followed question, came from nowhere. Seemingly at least.  
  
Gray jumped, spinning around and nearly tripping over her dark cloak at the voice. Her hands were out, reaching for Rhongomyniad in its reaper-like form, prepared to cut down whoever had snuck up on her!  
  
But all she came across was a blonde magus who stood behind her. A magus with a rather nice suit, fine smile, and no other tools about him. She did not let that distract her, as she knew that a Magus had more than just their circuits to use. Tricks were often the many methods they employed, and they were near _masters_ of it.  
  
“My apologies, young miss. I did not mean to frighten you,” he put a hand to his chest and bowed. Blue eyes shut as he bowed his head, holding the bent posture for a moment longer before rising again. Gray found her stiff posture slowly slacking. “I always found myself most at ease in graveyards, specifically the plots of land owned by my house. We have our own you see, dedicated to the heads and cousins who continue our craft.”  
  
His words were eloquent as he spoke, never directly looking at her. Glancing around her, looking at her eyes a few moments, but always _just_ avoided staring at her. Gray found herself gripping the edge of her cloak’s hood, both thankful… and confused by the action. She had long since fallen under the impression that it was normal, if not expected, to stare at someone like her.  
  
“You don’t need to be shy. I’m hardly the most malicious person in Clocktower, and far from conniving.” From the Magi she had met, and worked with… such as Lady Reines, she knew he was telling the truth. “I only saw someone else walking the plots of land and was curious as to who it was. Count me surprised to see it was a beautiful young woman such as yourself. My name is Emerick Chateau, and it is my pleasure to meet you.”  
  
That made her heart flutter a bit. Maybe because he called her beautiful while he mentioned other true things. She wasn’t beautiful though, just eye-catching. Like a sword against a painting. She was a tool to kill, not a painting to marvel at. She had that explained to her at length before. The man, Emerick, however, only continued to speak.  
  
“I find the graveyards comforting for knowing the bodies that rest beneath them.” Many didn’t find that comforting. She was only one of two in her village who did. “Not because of just that there are bodies, mind you, but knowing _who_ was there, reminding myself that because they _were_ there, they hadn’t succeeded in our family’s magic. And as such, the continued destiny now falls to me.”  
  
It was a curious thing to see, even more curious when he walked over to one of the plots of land and stared down at it. It was an unremarkable tombstone, one of many that Gray had seen before, and not etched with any extravagant gifts, natures, or honorifics. Maybe that was why he was staring at it. They were on the Clocktower’s ground, but someone had chosen a plain tombstone. King Arthur had done the same…  
  
“My family’s magic is in healing and the body.” The sudden admission made the young girl focus on the man again. Yes, he was a man. Even if he was only a head taller than her, blonde hair showing a youthful face, he was a man. He spoke as one and carried himself all the same. _Much_ different than the other nobles she met who couldn’t be bothered to go outdoors without an umbrella or magic. “Magic that involves not only assisting, but curing the body of any ailments. Trying to make it something that fits our soul.”  
  
He held up his hand as he spoke, and Gray saw the crackle of activating circuits. Her nerves told her to prepare again, but she was far enough away to not fear him if he attacked. He was still a Magus… and she had the blood and heritage of a king behind her, no matter how much she loathed it.  
  
“Do you know what one of my family’s oldest theories is? The theory the Château family has scribed since Dumas first penned the tales of the Count of Monte Cristo?” The Count? Edmond Dantes? _Oh!_ She loved that book! It was sad, but so well written and watching a man do so much for love… and this man, this Magus, had the same family name as the inescapable prison. “They say that a man’s life is extended when his soul is pleased with the body it resides in. Its one that came about because of the truths of pessimism and optimism, but then also those who yearn to strengthen themselves opposed to those who languish and let their bodies rot. The difference of those who strengthen their vessel, against those who yearn to escape it.”  
  
It a very philosophical theory, as she knew her mentor would say, but it was one that Gray was listening intently. The sparks in Emerick’s hand slowly puttered out, letting him return the gloved fingers into his fine jacket pocket. He still hadn’t turned to look at her, still staring at the tombstone before him.  
  
“Obviously there has to be more to it, or else simple maintenance and care for a body would grant immortality. Not only that, but one has to consider the Undead Apostles and how they factor into such an idea. Prideful as they are, not all relish their eternal lives.” The Apostles were things that many Mages only spoke about behind closed doors. Lord El-Melloi had yet to speak to her about them in length, not beyond warnings. Gray listened intently as the man spoke on. “But we are getting closer, gaining many skills and arts along the way. Building a foundation that nearly every other household wants a finger in, in order to publish patents for the thermology circles or to advance their own lives with the little we know. It isn’t something I mock, not when my ancestors pursued it. I only question how sincere so many of them are in helping us look for it, and being willing to share it.”  
  
Now he turned to look at her, and really look at her. Gray realized he was grinning, blue eyes staring at her with a shimmering glow that seemed to reflect even the moonlight. Her heart skipped a beat, clutching at it under her heavy cloak, realizing that she had nearly dropped the holy lance when she had done so. And Emerick had yet to move or speak through it all.  
  
“I appear to have startled you still, but I’m not sure I have enough stories to explain away my being here.” He almost sounded happy as he spoke of her uneasiness. “It is quite rare for me to find others in the Hallowed Cemetery and, though you are dressed much like a reaper, you have a face far from one.” The sudden attention to her appearance made Gray put a hand to her cheeks. He had spoken of her face kindly… perhaps he wasn’t a kind man.  
  
“My face?” She repeated. “No, my face _belongs_ in a place like this. It isn’t a good thing,” she spoke with sureness. Her woes had only begun in mass once her face had changed. And she spoke to him so easily about her presence, and appearance, at all.  
  
“Good, so you can speak.” She blushed as he realized it as well. “I was curious if you truly _were_ a spirit powerful enough to be visible to one without Mystic Eyes, or if you were looking for the opportunity to kill me. I suppose I should take some credit in drawing out a conversation.” Now she swallowed again, face heating at his words. She turned away from him now, knowing he was staring at her. “But what are you speaking about your face belonging to someone else? I certainly can’t expect revenant or reanimated dead to be walking the Clocktower grounds without an observing Magus nearby.” Did he mean… _oh!_  
  
“I-I-I’m not an undead!” She hastily returned, waving her hand at the dismissal of such an idea. “I just…in my village… watching the graveyard was my duty. It was the… the only place I could go without… them…” Staring at her, judging her, preparing her, coaching her, getting ready to get _rid_ of her. At least there weren’t many eyes in a graveyard.  
  
“You look similar to someone dead then.” The man was smart, picking up on it quickly. “Must be someone that your village had reverence towards for them to think so quickly of you. Even Plebeians wouldn’t rile themselves up so quickly over a daughter looking like a mother. But like a fore-gone ruler, perhaps then.” Very intelligent indeed. Though she was instructed not to speak of her heritage… Gray knew from Reines that silence was as much an answer as words spoken. So she had to speak to misdirect.  
  
“A ruler… yes…” though she would not name which ruler. “And ever since they noticed how much I… looked like her, they were determined to… make me her.” How much she’d be willing to admit to that, she wouldn’t say. Another mystery she was forbidden to telling. And Emerick apparently was alright with that, if him folding his arms and shaking his head were any indication.  
  
“What a bunch of fools.” Certainly agreeable then. “Even though my family is pursuing the idea of immortality through modifications of the flesh and linking of the soul, it should be _obvious_ that trying to force another appearance onto a soul that it doesn’t relate to would only weaken someone. No wonder you’re such a shy girl.” Well… agreeable, but certainly not empathetic. Much like her mentor, actually.  
  
“I-I’m not that shy… _am I?_” She wasn’t even sure if that was a good or bad thing, but the way the man spoke it made it sound like such. At least until he sighed at her.  
  
“I’m in a graveyard because I’m remembering my family’s estate. You’re here, probably, because you are trying to isolate yourself.” He was _far_ from foolish, obviously at that now. “I think it is a fair assumption on my part that you being here is evidence enough that you are not an easily approachable woman.” He stopped there, though with the air of his words still lingering.  
  
Enough for Gray to watch him through silver eyes, hanging beneath her heavy hood. Watching as he raised a brow, staring at her, and truly peering at her. That made her face start to heat. It wasn’t like that of her villagers, thankfully, but… but it was still a lot of attention from a man that wasn’t her mentor, and that didn’t feel right.  
  
It became even more worrisome when he took steps towards her, the grass crunching beneath him. Gray didn’t move or run, as the Magus was not going to be a larger threat than the Faker or other threats she and El-Melloi had faced. But still… he was a man who was approaching her in the empty graveyard, with eyes focused on her.  
  
_Slip!_ And then one who put a hand to her cheek, and massaged it.  
  
_SLAP!_ He made one circle across her face before her hands reached out and slapped his face, jumping back and pulling out her holy lance.  
  
Even if it was a hasty act on her part, she _knew better! Gray_ knew better than to let a stranger do that! With magic circuits that close to her, they could do a great deal of damage to her! That wasn’t to say he hadn’t already done something! One of her hands let the sharp point of the scythe aim towards the man, determined to keep him from touching her again!  
  
“_Wow!_ Is that how you thank someone? I thought you were going to be a bit more thankful than that, but apparently even those of common birth lack _common sense!_” That was… an accusation at her? _Her?_ Gray was aware of how Lady Reines and Lord El-Melloi took insults to their characters… and this felt _very_ much like one. Enough for her to bite her lips in annoyance.  
  
“Y-You touched me!” She let out, still feeling the warmth of where his fingers had played with her skin. Even through gloves, it was warm. “Th-That is something only… only people who _care_ for one another do, or in the throes of a life and death battle!”  
  
“I’m starting to believe you’re not just shy, but dull in the head.” The insult flowed out again, and Gray hotly blushed. “Here, hold still, and let me show just what I did.” He raised a hand, making Gray produce Rhongomyniad once more, but it wasn’t needed. Not needed because instead of reaching for her, he instead produced a thin sheet of metal from between his palms. She thought it like the El-Melloi magic craft, but it hardened quickly into that of a shiny mirror. One with a handle and all. “Here, look at yourself and tell me what _horrors_ I wrought.” She wasn’t sure she would see any. She hoped not to.  
  
But despite trepidation in her hand, she reached out and grasped the handle, holding it up. She gasped quickly at what she saw. Not the silver eyes, not the alabaster hair, not the heavy cloak, but her face.  
  
Her face, far closer to that of who she once was. More feminine, more fair, and less angular as that of the King of the Holy Lance. It almost looked soft… easy to touch, not the face of the king that she was supposed to model. She didn’t realize she was staring at her own reflection until Emerick pulled the glass away from her, leaving her to stare at him.  
  
“It’s a quick and crude trick, undoing the shape of the body built through force,” he noted easily, as if the magecraft he had demonstrated on her was… basic. She knew it wasn’t. Gray _knew_ it couldn’t be. “The concept of creation through effort is a dedicated and immutable rule of the world, but a small spell allows a desire to rise up first and foremost, and it appears your desire is to be even easier on the eyes. I’m not about to complain about that.” He adjusted his tie as he mentioned the words, once more so easily.  
  
“H-How…” she asked, even though he had already explained. “My face… a-a face is supposed to be… who I am.” She was sure that was a truth of the world just as well. Spirits carried the faces of their bodies, so how did he change her face by…  
  
“Removing the efforts put into it, like I said,” he repeated himself, and the sigh the blonde gave was evidence he wasn’t thrilled about the repetition. “Like allowing a stream to flow again by pushing away a dam. Your spirit shortly formed what it desired most. Catch is that effort will reseal the dam again, short as the metaphor is.” Temporary then, or was it? Was it temporary?  
  
“How can I stay like this?” Gray repeated. She wanted to stare at her face, gaze upon it, focus on it. She had stared so long into the face of King Arthur, she had almost forgotten the face she had now. The one that her mother said was so much like the holy partner to the King of Knights.  
  
She looked like Lady Guinevere, and she did _not_ want to change back now.  
  
“Is there… a-a spell or item you need? Something I can give you to keep myself like this?” It would perhaps be seen as desperation, but she was desperate. Pleased and happy as she was with her mentor and his colleagues through these past few months, this was her _dream!_ Perhaps more than escaping just her village, but to be free… from the ties of the past she hadn’t chosen.  
  
“You’re not the first to ask for something like that,” Emerick, however, responded easily, almost waving his hand. Maybe he was angry at her for reacting like she had. She had hit him, after he had helped her! “And like I said, my family has been searching for the means to improve appearance and longevity of life for generations now. Even if I do find it, I’m not just going to hand it off to someone I perchance to meet on a dreary night. The Root of the World will force back the actions it deems necessary, and that force will revert your face to what it once was, restoring its actions in the world once more.”  
  
Gray gripped her cloak a bit, tightening the heavy material slung over her shoulders. She was almost ready to draw her hood back over her body, to hide her face so she wouldn’t see her new face again. See it, and be reminded of what would soon be whisked away again.  
  
“However… I wouldn’t be opposed to trying something new with you, if you would be so willing.” And then the thread of hope was being dangled in front of her. Silver eyes looked back into the crystal blue orbs of the noble magus, her hands balled until they shook in front of her. “Not an experiment or controversial exchange of power, seeing as the Clocktower is opposed to unsanctioned actions such as that, but a new thermology transfer and conception alteration of flesh. Temporary at first… but perhaps repeated exposure could, returning to that previous metaphor, divert the flow of the river?”  
  
She didn’t even need to ponder it.  
  
“What do you need?” Gray spoke without a hint of hesitation. The grin the man wore was broad, brighter than the stars in the sky and just as appealing. Even if it seemed to stretch to his eyes, them curling as if smiling as well. A cheery man with a bright promise. She’d do anything he’d say.  
  
“First, I need to have more contact with you than just your face. It is too periphery to be able to create any permanent alterations.” That made sense to her. Gray nodded in understanding. “So, I will need you to strip. Naked if you can.” That was… a bit harder than she thought.  
  
“A-All of it?” She asked, hands already pulling her cloak back. She had thought about removing her cloak and some of her attire, but… naked… only her parents had ever seen her nude. And outdoors in a graveyard… that seemed to be too far. The Magus, however, only nodded in confirmation.  
  
“Indeed, that would be best. It will allow me to observe the methods and manners by which your body alters itself, as well as letting me carefully tune the number of circuits I fire, preventing feedback and damage to your body.” She forgot he was a _true_ magus, or acted as one. The modesty of others didn’t apply to him, not when the furthering of his magic was on the table. Her mentor and Lady Reines were much the same. “Though it is entirely up to you. I would never force a lady to act without her consent.” And that was another truth of it. He was a noble.  
  
But Gray was also not happy with who she was, and Emerick, the Chateau magus if she recalled his name correctly, was offering a way out of the body she was cursed with. The woman focused on that as she turned from him.  
  
Turned and faced a tombstone whose name and etching she didn’t bother to read. Her fingers played with the straps and ties of her dress, undoing them and loosening the fabric on her flesh. She blushed as she felt the chilly night air start to crawl over her skin, emphasized all the more as her gray dress, colored to her name, began to fall down her body.  
  
It hit the dirt with the Magus watching, Gray knew he was. Knew it even as she put her fingers around the bands of her panties, slipping them down past her legs and over her boots. Her cloak was covering her bare back and ass now, no bra needed for her modest chest. It left her nude if she faced him… and only then did she realize how nervous that would make her. So instead, she just walked a bit closer to the tombstone, putting fingers on it and leaning into it.  
  
Then, with a whip of her hand, pushing her cloak over her shoulders, letting her bare back, ass, and thighs be shown to Emerick. He was watching her, and she was naked, and it was in the middle of the night outside. She was starting to feel warm from it all, and she knew it was the act of no magic.  
  
“I-Is this… good?” She lightly questioned, unsure if it was or not. She didn’t want to look over her shoulder and be judged again. That was how she was determined to be the descendant of King Arthur.  
  
“More than I expected, so just enough for what I need.” That was good enough for her, and Gray thought on that as she heard the man walking closer. Her mind realized just _what_ she was doing when she heard him kick her dress and panties away, stalking up behind her.  
  
Gray had stripped herself naked for a man she hardly knew. And she had done it faster than she thought she would, even _could_.  
  
Gray thought she would have argued with herself, but she had done little more than merely question _what_ she could do. She wanted to change, and this Magus, the head of his household had, if not the power to do it, then the abilities to try with. And her mentor had spoken often about how the determination of those willing was usually stronger than those strong, yet lax.  
  
That determination left Gray leaning over the same nondescript gravestone the man had been staring at before, her cloak thrown over her head and leaving her bare legs and ass pushing out behind her. She could feel the night air lightly tickling her skin, boots the only thing she was wearing beneath her chest at this point. Even her cloak only barely held onto her shoulders, acting more like a counterbalance as she leaned over than anything else.  
  
_“HI~!_” She still let out a high whine as she felt Emerick’s hand grip her hips, strong fingers, bare to the air as her own skin was. Fingers that lightly traced up her smooth skin, massaging them and letting her feel like fires and lightning were slowly trailing through her body. Her ass shook as she felt his hands play with her, back arching as she both sought to move away from it… yet wanting to push her butt back into it.  
  
“No need to be shy. No reason to be nervous either. It’s common for anyone to be a bit uneasy when magic is about to be worked on them, even if it just high-level thermology.” High enough level to be construed with true-magic. Which circle of it she wasn’t sure, but perhaps the third Magic, similar to the grails…  
  
“_Gaah~_” The thoughts of magic and intelligence left her as his hands went further south, moving from her hips to roll over the cheeks of her ass. She felt him squeeze them, covering her large lumps with fistfuls of fat. She bit her lip as the feeling made her want to squeeze her own legs together, her pussy suddenly shivering at how close a _man’s_ fingers were to her.  
  
But a foot between her legs stopped her. His foot, between her feet, keeping her legs apart. Then it was two, all while he kept massaging her ass, and hips… and inner thighs. Gray was starting to pant as her fingers stretched at the tombstone, realizing just how trapped she was, and still unwilling to run away just yet.  
  
“Let me know if this becomes uncomfortable for you,” Emerick noted easily behind her. A voice that was spoke high above her… before she felt him leaning over her, body molding to her back and _utterly_ trapping her now. Her legs flat against his, her back to his chest, and his head suddenly nestled almost _lovingly_ at the crux of her neck. “I’d hate to have you feel anything but pleasure from this.” Gray wasn’t sure how to respond.  
  
_Whap!_ Even less so when she felt something long, and hard, and _very very_ hot hit her ass cheeks. She thought at first he had _spanked_ her, like some of the village elders had done when she was very young. But his hands, when he had done that at least, were at her inner thighs. _Hair’s width _away from stroking her wet cunt lips and sending her into what would be a blissful and wide-eyed daze.  
  
No, Gray realized what was settled into the crevice of her ass was a foot long, cylindrical, and slowly dripping something wet on her lower back. Her voice failed her, breath clamming up, as she realized what it was.  
  
Emerick’s cock. His cock on her _bare ass_. Her ass as her _dripping cunt_ was being presented by both the gait of his legs _and_ the pull of his hands. She couldn’t fall forward with the grave marker in the way, and if she picked up her hands, she’d fall over and have her ass _shoved_ against his loins. If anything it would be like she was presenting herself to him.  
  
… but wasn’t she? Wasn’t that how this started?  
  
“I can tell it’s your first time feeling a cock. Too many signs.” Emerick spoke, _lecturing_ her, as she rolled his hands up from her inner thighs, painting her ass, hips and outer legs with her own cunt juices. It only made goosebumps blossom over her skin, mixing with the night air and sending shivers down her spine. “Sudden stillness at the contact, unable to articulate confusion, no moans or whimpers. If this were a less consensual act, you’d be violent. But because I know you _want this_, you just don’t know how to respond.” Like all Magi, Emerick was _very_ smart.  
  
Gray bit her lip as her head fell forward, making her grip on the other side of the tombstone a bit harder. She was having a hard time keeping her face straight, impossible even. He _was_ right that she didn’t know what to do, or if there was anything she _could_ do. She was trapped between a rock… a grave marker… and a hard place… the Magus’s cock. And that _was_ hard. She could feel it like the legendary staff she always carried with her. She honestly feared his dick a bit more.  
  
“Because you’re new though, I have a feeling you want to save your first time for something more… romantic.” He still wasn’t wrong. “So, how about one more modification, one quick change, that I’m sure your mind, body, and soul will accept.” She let him do it, seeing as she had already had her face changed and body altered.  
  
“_GAuuugh~~!_” the haughty and lewd sound left her lips, however, nails scraping at the stone, when she felt his fingers work at her ass. And not even for a long time. “_GAaaGHIIIII~~~!_” Because she _bowed_ her back until she thought she’d slap his chin with her head. Namely as he sent circuits and powers into her asshole, and did… _something_ to it.  
  
“Calm down,” The Château magician _ordered_ her. Hand on her alabaster hair, cloak hood pulled away, she did as requested. “I just added an existing facet of your pussy into your ass.” That sounded worse than she thought it ever could. “The human body derives pleasure from sex, in order to guarentee procreation. It’s why me _fucking_ your cunt would make you orgasm.” _WUMP!_ He said that as he lightly humped her ass.  
  
It was a love tap, a push at that, but it was a harsh reminder to Gray that she was a single _hump_ away from having a man’s cock in her cunt walls, fucking her to get her pregnant, just like he said. She felt his balls tease her lips, coming back with her own sopping juices, and her lips between her teeth as she vainly fought back another moan. But more than anything else, it was what her ass _felt_ like that confused her so much.  
  
It felt as if it was _shivering_ with the lack of touch, making her jaw open and drool. The mere _closeness_ of his cock to her asshole made her drool and scratch at the tombstone, ready to fall over and be held against him. So close… so warm… and he was still willing to help her. Was he helping her though?  
  
“I will admit it is not the thing I promised, but I am still helping you.” Perhaps he could read her thoughts. She was okay with that… if it helped her. Look like Guinevere, the fair woman. Not King Arthur, the King of Knights. “But pleasure often helps direct the soul, and I do want to see you swallow yourself in pleasure…” Gray bit her lip, swallowing on nothing at that. Her back arched as she felt his dick hot dog her ass a bit more. So big… so commanding… and so willing to help her. She was being blessed in this yard by this Magus. “So, young _Gray_, go ahead and _sink_.” The cock pulled back across her ass, stopping when the head was at her puckered hole. She had time to suck in a breath of air-  
  
_WHAM!_ Then have it all blown out through clenched teeth.  
  
Teeth clenched, slobber being _spat_ through them, and her fingers digging into the stone of the unknown magus as she was fucked up her ass by Emerick’s cock.  
  
“Now… how does that _feel?_” The question didn’t seem important to Gray, not that she wanted to insult the Magus. It was just… she was too busy staring up at nothing. Stars, yes, but stars that felt as if they could have been in front of her eyes they were so bright. “From how your squeezing, shivering, and… _oh_, whimpering, I’d say you’re feeling rather… pleased.” Yes… yes she _was!_  
  
Oh _Wow~ WooooWWWW!~_ Her mind was in an electric fog, and she wasn’t sure how else to put words to it. Her legs were curling up even as her boots scraped at the dirt and grass. Caught by Emerick’s’ own legs as he kept her up against the tombstone, cock _deep_ in her anus and pushing against until it felt like he was bottoming out. But he wasn’t though. He wasn’t all the way in her and she could tell!  
  
Gray could tell because even though her anus was squeezing him like a vice trying to draw as _much_ of him inside as possible, she couldn’t feel his balls. And she wanted to have that. She wanted to feel his balls slap at her cunt as he fucked her anus! Just shoving them in there and making her buck and scrap at the tombstone!  
  
_WUMP! WUMP! WUMP!_ And when he started to fuck her against it, she knew she was going to be close. Her head bobbed back and forth, cloak on her shoulders shaking as well as her anus and pussy clenched with the beats. The rings of her ass feeling and dilating around every _inch_ of the cock that was fucked up her guts, reaching into her as if to scratch at her spine from the other side. She had often heard magic did much to make the impossible feasible, but this felt like a dream!  
  
A pleasant euphoric dream where she was _literally being fucked beautiful!_ The man altering her flesh bit by bit, letting her spirit form the way she looked as she was suddenly fucked up a hole that no one would check for purity! She was getting sexual relief she didn’t know she needed without compromising herself for a future man! And this magus she met off of serendipitous circumstances was doing it for her sake!  
  
_WUMP! WUMP! **WHAM! WHAM!**_ Even as he started to fuck her harder, to the point where his hips slapping at her ass had her spread thighs and knees slamming into the tombstone, scraping her skin against it as she tried to keep herself sane. But her sanity was rapidly slipping as more of the cock slid into her. Inch after mind-fucking inch until it… it…  
  
**_WHAM!_** “_GHaaagH~!_” Gray slipped. But in a way she couldn’t tell was beneficial or not.  
  
Just for her fingers to slip, leaving her falling forwards until her hands were on the grass opposite the stone, and bent over the tombstone. _WHAM! WHAM!_ And the Chateau mage continued to fuck her. _Hard_.  
  
“_GHII~~~! AGH~ UGH!~_” Gray wasn’t sure what to grab onto or push against as the cock continued to drill into her anus, spreading it to the point where sitting down with it would be near _impossible!_ She was literally being almost bent in half, the grave marker between her head and her feet the only thing that kept her cunt juices from splashing into her face.  
  
“Uh… yes… _good_.” Emerick complimented from above her, and Gray _adored_ the words! “Now… I believe this is… a good start for now… just now…” A start? Did that mean... they were going to do more!? She felt her cunt clench in anticipation, even if it already felt crushed by the cock that was spearing her anus and pushing it against her front! “Later, much later. For now… _drink up!_” Drink what?  
  
It was a poor question that was quickly answered.  
  
_SPURT!_ By the feeling of him cumming. Cumming into her ass and hard enough to make her legs curl up and finally drag off of the ground. It left Gray balancing on the top of the stone, hands on the ground, the Magus’s hands on her hips, and _grinding_ his cock into her ass as he came. Came hard enough to make her crane her back, draw herself up and let out a pattering whine of a scream.  
  
And that was when she came. Her senses left her in the middle of it.  
  
In the middle of collapsing into a writhing mess, falling ass over head onto the ground, hitting her cloak with her front exposed and leaving an expression of almost unnatural pleasure about her as she looked up, between the sparks in her brain and lapsing sense of consciousness. And it all felt so… amazing.  
  
Even if she wasn’t able to close her legs, even if Gray knew she was in no state to move. It just felt… worth it. She couldn’t explain why, she couldn’t describe how, but it was… as if her nights alone were all just for this, and meeting the Magus was the conclusion of a painful journey she was on.  
  
Her silver eyes rolled in her head as she sought out the man who had fucked her, gazing up at him as her cunt continued to shiver and asshole clench at the cum she felt slowly dripping from it. There wasn’t an ounce of strength or Prana in her to move… So she listened to the man who fucked her over, _hanging_ off of his every word.  
  
“You know what, you’re good for a village girl. First time someone like you has gotten me off that quickly.” Emerick spoke above her, not that she could focus her eyes on him. She was still trying to get them to roll back out of her skull, but it was much like staring up into the sky. It _felt_ like she was gazing at the Root of the world, fucked over as her mind was. “I was expecting only the Clocktower nobles to attract my attention, but I guess a Lord’s girl will also do.” A lord… her mentor.  
  
A pathetic sound left Gray as she tried to adjust herself, but it turned into a lurid motion and comment as it made her legs come together, and that pressure made her cunt orgasm again, not assisted by her ass being _just_ as treated for stimulation. She humped nothing as she came down off of another high. That only let her barely hear the sigh from the Magus.  
  
“Don’t try and force yourself. Your body is still adjusting to the newer commands and sensations that are attributed to it. Like learning how to walk for the first time instead of crawling.” Was that what this was like? How appropriate, because Gray imagined herself crawling through the Clocktower graveyard, legs unable to support herself. They weren’t even able to lift off the ground with out more of Emerick’s cum shooting out of her ass. “Just take it easy, and keep this quiet. I can’t have the rest of the Magus families knowing about my family’s goals without consultation.”  
  
Just barely, as in barely escaping death from her village, Gray was able to twist her head and look up at the Château mage. Look at him as she lay naked, legs spread out on her cloak, panting hotly through slobber and sweat, and cum leaking from her overly fucked asshole just beneath her. Her cloak was ruined and her mind felt just as used, but she was looking up at Emerick as he put his gloves back on in an almost dismissive and easy manner. The massive cock that had broken her body, and _perhaps_ her spirit, already tucked away again.  
  
“I can tell you’re not completely satisfied.” That… wasn’t true, was it? Was she satisfied? “Oh, don’t worry, you’re exhausted, but I can tell you want more. And I will provide.” Gray felt a grin pulled at her lips, genuine as the one she gave her master when he had saved her from her village. She would never speak of such a truth again. “That benefits us both, as I’m looking to improve my altering craft on you as well. I’ll call it a trade.”  
  
Not both of them, _him_. He’d call it a trade, and he called it that as he knelt next to the girl he had just fucked to near unconsciousness in the Clocktower graveyard, and here looking as if she was anticipating another round. The almost _bored_ expression from the man, kept away only by the smile he wore, was a harsh contrast more in line with the stillness of the dead than the overly fucked and wantonly used woman.  
  
“I’ll help change your body in the small, _appropriate_ ways, to make your soul better fit you. A boon to my family’s research _and_ perhaps as means to undue that unjust damage your old family inflicted on you.” That was… an amazing offer. One that had Gray already nodding her head. However, he put his palm to her forehead, gripping her, _holding_ her still. “However, the catch is I will fuck you whenever I need release. Be it in the graveyard, my room, outside at shops, or perhaps when I can’t find another woman looking to suck my cock. You will do.”  
  
What did… that make her then? Gray wasn’t even sure. A long wet groan of disappointment left her throat, shivering like the rest of her cum-addled body. But she still wanted it, and she wanted to get better and be remade, and this man was offering it… for the price of sex. The act she had just joined in on _and_ had made her this wet mess, a thing that she knew many ignorant of the magus community would find attractive.  
  
She didn’t see the downside.  
  
“_MP-Hmppphph…_” she let out weakly, unable to keep her breath steady to hum. Now Emerick grinned at her, eyes joining in and looking almost like a second _moon_ in the sky. But Gray felt a_ sun_ from him.  
  
“Excellent.” He congratulated. _WHAP!_ Before smacking her tits crudely. “Then take a bath, prepare yourself, and get ready for another rump tomorrow. I can’t find Luvia, and your ass is better than another first generation’s mouth.” With little more consideration, he stood and walked away. Gray watched him, still panting through her lips, ass shaking, and body trying to find the energy to move.  
  
And while her body and soul realigned, her mind _couldn’t wait until Emerick Château found her tomorrow~._


	5. Chapter 4 - Reines El-Melloi Archisorte (Nerve Shut-Down)

Libraries were a personal pleasure for many high-born aristocrats, and it was no different for her. An area where she could reminisce on the Clocktower’s happenings, observe her dear brother’s habits with the underappreciated members, and watch the less enchanted members of their society attempt to struggle their way forward into a burrow they’ll never see the end of.  
  
As was accepted for the high positions in the Clocktower and its unforgiving nature, few ever saw the end of such horrors. Rather the opposite, far more of them reached unfortunate ends, toiling in research and the crafts of crests that would never be anything more than the mundanity of simple functions, far from the common goal of Magi. Never would they be able to see the root, and the less fortunate members of the society were destined to watch others walk over their backs and stretch for higher holds than they could ever imagine.  
  
Honestly, the sights brought nothing but bright smiles to her face whenever she heard of them.  
  
“Fuu fuu fuu, how _drawl_,” the young blonde noted as she flipped through her scrying station, watching one of the newer recruits to the Clocktower. He was bent over his table, working on his twelfth parchment that night, and was just as likely to join the others in the rubbish bin. “The lines are misdrawn, the incantation a syllable too short, and the purpose so unimportant, that only the dedicated of the field would ever chance to even _glance_ over it.” She traced a finger over her jaw as she spoke, her lower digits curling around the edge of her bright grin.  
  
She finally laughed as the man she was watching did as expected. Watching him curl the paper in his hands, shredding it, then tossing it away. Another several hours gone, another night wasted, and all the better for her to watch.  
  
“My Lady, I have returned.” Her musings of the vain efforts of lesser men was interrupted by the soft voice, carried through a thick sheet of metal. She looked up, blinking with the remnants of her smile at the person who spoke to her. It was a generous term. “The Magus you have requested has agreed to come of his own volition, and is waiting in the next room.”  
  
“Oh? He’s waiting alone?” She mused aloud, staring at the maid who spoke to her. “And you’re sure he hasn’t taken the time to run? He wouldn’t be the first.” The servant didn’t need longer to respond.  
  
“I activated the runes as you requested, so to give him the false sense of security and escape. They have yet to activate, meaning-“  
  
“Meaning he is still waiting patiently for me.” If that wasn’t a damper on her mood. How she would have loved to hear the pitiful screams of an overly eager man being shocked through his magical circuits. The pain was quite intense, but she was not fortuned to hear or see it. “Very well, return and send him in. Follow behind and keep yourself scarce. If he reacts oddly in any way, do be sure to impale him for me.”  
  
“Of course, my lady,” the servant curtsied, synthesized voice trailing through her. She left, leaving the young woman to look at her scrying ball again.  
  
“Honestly, a meeting was required, but just when the man was about to give up hope of his position here,” the girl complained to only herself. Nevertheless, she pushed the ball away, letting it and the table it sat on roll to a nearby wall. One that carried an innumerable number of books and texts on it. Enough to satisfy many curious Magi, herself included. They were all unimportant now.  
  
For now, she took her position on her chair, crossed her legs, and kept her wry grin as the door slowly opened back up. The feeling of cold air hitting her was far more jarring now, but she hardly reacted. Instead, her eyes were focused on the young man walking into her parlor, watching his curious gaze flit about the room, all the while her dutiful maid followed in behind him.  
  
“Emerick Chateau,” she spoke, earning his attention. His fine suit was easy to distinguish, likely a gift from his family or heritage. Hers wasn’t far different. “I’m truly thrilled to see you have accepted my invitation. I was worried you’d be leaving me alone this fine evening.”  
  
“That would be less of a concern if I knew to anticipate your invitation,” the man returned without any hesitation or pause. She raised her brows, but didn’t drop her grin. He wasn’t wearing a faux sense of bravery. “If you wish to call for me, please do it when I am not entertaining guests. My family sent me here to learn and build family relations in this trying time of turnover, so I cannot answer all calls from all families.” The irritation was appreciated.  
  
“I suppose there must have been something about me then that drew your attention. Perhaps knowledge of who I am? Or was it the beauty of my servant that called you?” Her pale hand opened itself up to her maid, the servant bowing at the sign. “Trimmau is, after all, unique even by the considerations of other mystic codes. A common one crafted by my family, yet redone by me over the past few months, perhaps even years.”  
  
“It is unfortunate that you can’t remember, as that is the sign of a sedentary mind,” Emerick returned easily. “Though it could be you were so focused on your work you lost track of time itself. That isn’t uncommon, especially for some of the more high-class Magi in the Clocktower.”  
  
“Oh? So you _do_ know me then?” She adjusted her legs, flipping one over the other. The grin pulled at her lips as she watched him stare at her hips, hoping to catch the sight of her spread legs. Unfortunately for him, she was a proper woman, and wasn’t so keen to present herself like that. “Would that save us time on introductions? Or do you need a reminder?”  
  
“No, you’re Reines El-Melloi. The younger… _sister_ of Lord El-Melloi.” He hesitated. “Apologies, but I had to remember the exact relations. My aunt and mother had me familiarize myself with the contestants and happenings of recent events, and the change from you to him as lord of the household, as well as the death of your _true_ head, were something I couldn’t easily forget.”  
  
“Yet many have, and often do,” she returned, threading her fingers and balancing her chin on it. “You are an interesting man to remember such a minor detail. That, over a multitude of other arguably more important details happening around the Clocktower. Wouldn’t you be more concerned with, say, a new Mystic Code that is being constructed relating to the conversion of nervous system components to Magical Circuits?” She watched him carefully as she spoke.  
  
“I would be, if I were not already aware of such happenings. Don’t take my interest in the affairs of the other families as disinterest in my own.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “You’ll have to accept my apologies, but as I said you took me from something I was rather enjoying, and your maid… golem… thing in the corner wasn’t something I thought I could say no to and then have waved off with all my fingers.”  
  
“You’re not nearly as dull as you look to realize that,” Reines patted her fingers over the edge of her brow, leaning forward in her chair. “Though I suppose from the man who has happened to sleep with many of the more… upstanding members of the Clocktower, that is hardly surprising. Even a genius Magus decides carefully on the work they need to pursue.”  
  
_That_ made him react, though not as she expected. She expected a lie about what he had been doing, or perhaps surprise that she knew. Instead, he only blinked at her, looking around the library as if searching for something. While Emerick searched, Reines took the time to appreciate him.  
  
It was hard to truly grasp how masculine he looked through just a scrying ball, lest because the balls were limited by many forms of observation. Sound was not present, they could only look where the magical circuits directed, and it was easier for an experienced magus to set up a bounded field to keep the eyes away, even easier than most familiars. So for her to look at the Chateau head now was something special. And truly, the El-Melloi princess could see why some women had taken a liking to him.  
  
Masculine as she called him, he was far from the overly impressive men that tended to walk about the Clocktower. In a fight of wits, she was sure her dear onii-chan could best him. Magical ability as well, comparing the winner of a grail war to a corrupter of women’s hearts was hardly fair. But even by combative ability, it was difficult to say his level of muscle, least of all beneath the suit. She could only tell that Emerick didn’t have arms so large the jacket strained.  
  
But Reines could appreciate that he was also far from the bulbous men who tended to enjoy sedentary lives. He had a level of activity to him that superseded his carnal pleasures, or perhaps enhanced it. She would also be a fool to forget that he did get many girls to fall at his feet and suck his cock with little more than a threat or bit of persuasion. From easier targets such as Gray, the little minx under her onii-chan, to the far more impressive Edelfelt girl, one who thought her purity a grand gesture.  
  
He had not only claimed them, but used them. That was why he was interesting.  
  
“You called me out for my more auspicious habits, but I don’t see anyone nearby who would punish me for them. Can I assume you want something from me?” His eyes were sharp on her, focused. That was good, she enjoyed her word games. For Reines, watching Emerick Chateau beg her for something would be perfect.  
  
“Because if I brought them here, there would be nothing to bargain,” the El-Melloi girl offered with out-stretched arms. It showed off her long blond hair, extending smoothly down her back. “I want to have a conversation that may lead to a trade, because I have been listening to other lecturers enough to know you have a special talent when it comes to Thaumatology. Especially in the crafting of codes and arts related to the use of the body for specific gains.”  
  
“I can’t deny where my skills lie. That doesn’t answer what you want from me. From what I can see, it appears you have a specialty in other areas.” Emerick drifted his gaze towards Trimmau, the impassive golem watching with mirror-pool eyes. “I can’t work my Prana through that. No soft tissue. She’s quite _literally_ too hard to work on.”  
  
“I imagine you hope most women can say that to you.” Reines kept her smile when Emerick looked at her again. “And don’t upset yourself with her. I had my elder brother assist me with crafting her from an existing mystic code, and she has served dutifully since then, with enough Prana to feed her. The issue, however, is in relation to the Magic Crests of ours.”  
  
“Oh, I believe I see now.” Emerick held his chin in a curled hand, smiling down at her. “This is in relation to the last El-Melloi that went to the Grail War in that backwards country. Japan, yes?” Reines nodded at his question. “It cost your family greatly from what I remember. Are you hoping to take my crests for it? No… no you wouldn’t risk something like that.” He was quick to answer himself.  
  
“I am not,” Reines confirmed. “But can you possibly guess what it is I _do_ want?” She was nearly licking her lips waiting for his answer.  
  
“I don’t suppose you are about to suggest trying to recreate your magical circuits.” Emerick’s eyes shifted as he spoke. “Much joy as I can have with affecting the connection of soft tissue, affecting the relation of bleeding and concepts of organs, and even reconnecting nervous system cords and lines, creating magic crests is still a dangerous thing for my family to explore. Much can go wrong quickly.”  
  
“And why is that? Are you afraid of hurting yourself?” Reines intentionally jabbed. The insult of pride was always a great thing to witness. “A weakness to your craft? That wall you simply cannot overcome?” Her reward was finally watching the perpetual grin on the man’s face quiver. It made Reines’s bloom.  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with finding a problem. They exist in order to keep _everyone_ from hurdling around the superior answers in the world,” his smooth reply came out. It was a recovery, and a fine one at that. He’d do well in the upper ranks of the Clocktower, provided his circuits and Craft were of suitable potency. “If all answers were easy, then there would be no reason for experimentation.”  
  
“All answers are also simple once found,” Reines returned to Emerick’s defense. “And for you to not have an answer shows you have yet to find them. Any Magus worth their crests would be sure to point out this means you are fumbling in the dark. Is that why you cling to the skirts of women in the Clocktower? To drag them down with you?”  
  
The breath Emerick dragged in was almost akin to a symphony in her ears. The last vestiges of patience being worn away, until the anger at the precipice of despair overtook him. Perhaps not the soul-crushing end she would have liked, but haughty men being made to bend their knees was never a sight she’d turn from, especially one who bragged about the heritage of his family.  
  
“Those women were family heads and members that owed me favors, and I took what I believed they were due to owe me,” he neatly countered with a wave of his hand. “If you are trying to imply that any of them could have helped me with the research of my family, then you are mistaken. The Thaumatology of the Edelfelt family means nothing to me, and it is clear from the other two women that their patience and study with the craft has long since passed.”  
  
“You are not wrong, but a worthy Magus can find worth in even a dog.” His eyes were sharp on her, focused and narrow. She grinned almost maliciously towards them. Trimmau was still patient behind him, and she was only a quick hand motion away from having him impaled.  
  
She wanted to see him squirm, but she was not so foolish or desperate for attention that she’d endanger her body for a bit of fun.  
  
“I thought that was why you approached them so far, noticeably Gray. I thought her like a puppy to my dear onii-chan, and I thought you were treating her the same way.” Her fingers played with her chin as she watched Emerick, the Château head not so much as fidgeting as she spoke. “Am I wrong to assume that? Because I would have sworn to any curious parties that you were just being a dutiful master to a bitch, giving her a bone for doing as you commanded.”  
  
“I would say she did a far better job cleaning my shaft then nibbling on any bone, no matter which mouth she offered, or _I_ took.” Reines let her mouth open into a surprised ‘O’. This man was certainly not about to excuse his actions. She had yet to see if it was out of wisdom, pride, or idiocy. She doubted the latter, considering just _who_ he had fucking his shaft. “But can I assume that is why you called _me_ here?”  
  
“You here?” Reines repeated. “I did request you from Trimmau, but I don’t believe I had her refer to you as anything but ‘sir’.” The metal golem behind the Magus bowed as her name was spoken.  
  
“If that creature of yours spoke to me in any disrespectful way, I’d have not bothered to come.” Emerick folded his arms, looking at her down the bridge of his nose. She smiled back in her seat, folding her legs and keeping her loins well hidden. “No, _you_ called me here to ask for me to do something about your Family Crest. Press my buttons and annoy me, but it's hard to make me forget that line of questioning.”  
  
“I hardly wanted you to forget, as that would mean you wouldn’t be able to help me.” There was no point in lying or hiding it. Not when the truth could make this situation so much more enjoyable, and perhaps even fruitful. “That was until I saw you trying to step around an answer. I’ve seen enough of the novices try and dance around their inabilities, always thinking of ways to explain their shortcomings. _You_ were awfully close yourself.”  
  
“Was I? By saying there was a problem?” He blew air out of his nose, a snort at her, or perhaps laughing at himself. “Then you had best not speak to any of the researchers or professors here. From what I have heard, and the women have told me, they all have their own problems. Would the current head of the _fallen El-Mellois_ truly think it a fun idea to mock them?”  
  
_Touché_.  
  
“Perhaps not, but _they_ are working on things that I don’t believe words can even describe,” Reines followed easily. “You, on the other hand, have a family that excels in the healing and reconstruction of biological systems, something that even Non-Magi have a concept for. All I have seen is creative use of nervous systems and conceptual manipulation of specific cells. And that was with the Fiore girl. The rest have been patents you bartered with Edelfelt with.”  
  
“Yes, bartered her body and submission for.” His grin was broad as he spoke. “And if you know that, you know that she now fears doing _anything_ I do not wish, because her family currently values those patents high above anything else. If I were to break ties, it may be so damning a case that her own family would transfer the rights of the Family Head from her.”  
  
The very idea of it made Reines almost keel over with laughter.  
  
“You clearly enjoy the idea of that. Makes me curious why you’re putting yourself in such a precarious position.” Oh? Was that where he thought she was?  
  
“You believe my position precarious? Because I have my onii-chan managing the workings of the El-Melloi family?” She _laughed_ at the idea of him challenging her. “He is a talented instructor, but when it comes to pure thaumatology, I far surpass him. Besides, he is bound to assist in restoring the family crests.”  
  
“He is? That would explain why you have him on a short leash. And do not pretend you don’t. Any fool who sees the pair of you can tell who wears the collar.” Reines didn’t have any reason to lie. Not when it was much more enjoyable to speak the truth. “He does what he does for you out of obligation. As soon as he realizes that, or decides to forego you, you’ll have nothing to hold over him.”  
  
“Not in the sense of punishment or loss of trade,” Reines admitted. “But for bleeding hearts like my onii-chan, the idea of being responsible for another’s life is a hard chain to break. I thought that was why you fucked Gray in the graveyard a few nights ago, or was that you practicing for a more… resilient target?”  
  
“Neither, in fact. She was just a girl who was around and my balls were blue. She made a convenient tool to use, and I very much doubt she’ll complain about me.” She wouldn’t.  
  
Reines knew that because she confronted Gray about it, and the misery she showed her was exquisite. A shame that her eyes didn’t bleed red, a clear sign that she was under an illusion. No, if magic was used on her, it was light enough to disperse quickly, and someone under her dear onii-chan’s employ wouldn’t be taken away with a simple concoction or illusion.  
  
“That said, I am hoping for another woman to add to my roster. Another pillar to hold myself up in the Clocktower because, as you said, it is too easy for people to be pushed away.” Had she said that? Maybe not in so many words. “And having the Edelfelt family backing me, with Lord El-Melloi’s dear disciple vouching for me, will make the work of many investigators difficult to kick me out.”  
  
“Are you anticipating an early departure?” The things he was working on then had to be amazing.  
  
“No, though only a fool doesn’t plan for mistakes. And all anyone needs to do is incorrectly identify me as a common man to have my position in the Clocktower reduced, and add a blemish to the Chateau family name. Something I will _not_ abide as the head.” At least he was sure of himself.  
  
“Dutiful, prideful, and deceitful.” Her perfect man. “Whatever could someone like you be working on that required the Clocktower? If the magic crest reconstruction doesn’t interest you-?”  
  
“I never said it didn’t interest me, only that we don’t have a solution yet.” Reines had to blink, adjusting her blonde bangs to ensure she wasn’t missing any sign of discomfort on Emerick. She wasn’t. “And speaking of possessing something I clearly do not is the fastest way to have falsehoods cast about. Before my project is complete, or to a stage I can present, it will remain secret. How someone like you stumbled upon them is as insulting as it is concerning.”  
  
“No need to feel insulted. I am quite experienced at digging up the past.” Her tongue ran over her lips in memories of the lives she’d ruined. “But you? I can find little to hold over your head, nothing that will breach the surface of the water you’ve found yourself protected in. So instead, I wanted you here to inquire _about_ that research of yours. More firmly, if there is anything you are in need of to continue it.”  
  
“Continue? It never stopped. But if you are speaking of supplies, I would need Magi who have damaged or insufficiently developed magic crests, preferably those who have some positive sign of having the capability to hold crests.” An idea flickered in her mind.  
  
“Is that why you pursued Fiore and Gray? Because of their familiar history?” Emerick’s grin was almost as wicked as hers.  
  
“It certainly helped, but the tightness of their cunts wasn’t unappreciated.”  
  
She certainly wouldn’t speak of it, but that made her own pussy a little moist. Speaking of women like that, and using them while they were aware of _why_ they were being used. There were certainly less impressive forms of entertainment, but Reines could name few greater than that.  
  
“But the difficulty is that I cannot easily tell how to affect them. That being that if there is any positive growth of the circuits, there has to be a test to show that they are properly integrated, as an incongruent proliferation of the circuits could cause feedback with the passive nervous system, perhaps even active, and resulting in muscle contractions that could negatively affect the body.”  
  
“It sounds like you’ve given this more thought than a passing fancy,” Reines continued through Emerick’s rant of his problem. “What if I were to tell you that I wanted to have _our_ family crests restored. It is one of the conditions I gave my onii-chan for leaving my employ.”  
  
Emerick made to answer, but he stopped himself. Opening his mouth, shutting it, then thinking. Her golem waited patiently in the back, and she stared with crossed-legs and a wide grin as the Chateau head thought on.  
  
“You want me to succeed first… so that he is bound to your family, for life.” Her _truly_ perfect man.  
  
“I was correct about you. You are a wise one~!” Reines clapped in joy of it all. “You are right, of course, and succeeding will also ensure the placement of the El-Melloi family in the Clocktower goes unblemished. Such is important for us. Restoring our crests even would give us a higher rank, for recovering from what no other family has.”  
  
“And mine would gain just as much fortune for being responsible for it,” Emrick concluded. “It is a fine idea, but just that. I hardly have more than ideas with how to proceed, and my family is no different. The biggest limitation, if you are curious, is the raw materials for the circuits. No elements can be freely crafted or created, they must be drawn from somewhere, and we like the 1st or 3rd magic to draw them from other realms or times.”  
  
“I don’t believe any but the Natural Mages have them,” Reines admitted, disappointed in her tone. How much fun could she have, finding other realms where the dreams of others fell to waste~. “But hasty beginnings with clear paths bring about faster results. So, if you need raw materials for those circuits, I can look into where those may be.”  
  
“Don’t not forget that the issue is more than merely physical, as the process has to be imprinted on the soul.” Emerick was quick to point out. “The extensions in the body are important, but without imprinting on the soul, it would be no different than grafting a finger onto your hand, but failing to put the concept in your mind. You wouldn’t be able to move it.”  
  
“Oh? I had not thought of that,” Reines freely admitted. “Wouldn’t your body naturally adapt to new parts of it? I can think of several _natural_ occurrences to that.”  
  
“You asked what were some issues, that was one of them,” Emerick spoke easily. Reines relaxed as well, following the condition of her guest, for now. “The actual implementation that I theorized for that would be reducing the sensitivity of other extremities, forcing the mind to find and imprint on the magical circuits. Think of it like closing your eyes to focus on hearing.”  
  
“So you would remove the ability for them to use their magical circuits to find their new ones?” A swift shake of his blonde hair was Reines’s immediate answer.  
  
“No no, nothing like that. Removing their nervous system would be more accurate, or like a pseudo limitation of function. Basically can be summarized as blocking the stimulus from specific nodes, so that no amount of feedback can be received. Limitation of the potassium-sodium pumps, perhaps even a neutralization of charge states, but something that would not lead to immediate biological shut down. _That_ would be no different than death, and I cannot prove if a procedure worked if the subject can’t even respond.”  
  
“How true,” Reines agreed. “Then what would you say for trying out this technique? On me?” She put her palms to her chest, and it made Emerick’s eyes bulge.  
  
“You? No! That would be the same as putting a knife to my neck.” At least he wasn’t so eager he became dense. “Willing as I want my subjects to be, there is a clear difference between willing and waiting then still and conniving. You would _doubtlessly_ entrap me like your brother, and I have no intention of sending the five generations of my family’s work to the foothold of another.”  
  
“I certainly hope not because I want time to see your controlled descent.” She laughed at his expression, the foregone conclusion that it was. “No, I want to feel how you would affect me in terms of your thaumatology. This limitation of the nervous system. And before you wonder if my mind is lost, do not forget that Trimmau is just behind you, and I assure you she’ll kill you if you so much as roll up my sleeves without consent.”  
  
“Ah…” Emerick noted as he looked back at the metal golem. She bowed again, clear eyes shifting little. “Then you’re not as gullible as the other girls either. At least you look for deceit, and plan for it.”  
  
“Only a magus thick as bricks wouldn’t,” she agreed with his earlier sentiments. “But enough of that, I want to see what your mage craft can do, as you can see the results of _my_ family’s crests behind you, but I think you’d be rather against _toying_ with it.” He hummed in response.  
  
“If I do… I’m going to need to touch your skin.” He admitted as he stepped forward, rolling up his sleeve. “And I’m not about to risk my arm for your entertainment. Not unless you put yourself on the same line for me.” Hardly.  
  
Reines turned her attention to Trimmau, coughing to get her attentive.  
  
“Trimmau,” she began. “Allow Emerick Château to place hands on my stomach, but no higher than my ribs or lower than my hips.” The command was imprinted immediately.  
  
“Of course, my lady. I will allow the contact.” She bowed, and Emerick grinned down at her. Reines returned the greedy gesture.  
  
“Now then, I suppose we can start?” she asked, already grabbing the edge of her dress and pulling up.  
  
She sat up in her seat, legs uncrossed and letting her blue dress run up her body. Despite what many other noble born women may act, she was hardly perturbed by her sudden stripping in front of the other house head. For one, this was a magical experiment, a demonstration on his family crest and use of his circuits. For another, she was hardly naked.  
  
Even when her dress was pulled over her head, she had her white top still, rolling down to just beneath her breast line, and her tights still well in place. The outline of her underwear, and even her cunt, were on display, certainly, and her nipples were protruding against her top, but she could hardly stop that. The stories she had exchanged with Emerick had done the opposite of bother her, and she was only too eager to hear more, but later.  
  
For now, she leaned back in her chair, presenting her smooth stomach to the blonde magus. He was quick to put his hands on her.  
  
“This will tingle for a moment,” he explained. “The worst part will likely be if you lose your sense of balance. You _are_ sitting on a chair, and I’d hate to have you lose enough motor control to slip off of your seat.”  
  
“You’re intending to weaken my muscles that much?” the idea of being unable to even sit up straight was as humorous as it was oddly concerning, but Trimmau was here, and nothing would happen to her so long as only this overly eager Chateau member was present.  
  
“Want to? Hardly, but as I said, the purpose is to limit the control of your nerves. I’m going with the active nervous system as well, removing the concept of direction from your brain. That way, your sympathetic and parasympathetic systems will still be working, and aiming so low, I have no concern of affecting your heart or lungs.” As she expected.  
  
“Good to hear, but remember, _anything_ else that happens, and you’ll be sorry~.” Even if she was the one sprawled out on her seat, Reines greatly enjoyed the unease that spread across Emerick’s face. He was becoming more and more like her perfect man. “So, when will you be…”  
  
Her mouth fell down mid-speech, and Reines was unable to lift it. That was concerning.  
  
“Ah, there we go,” Emerick spoke up pleased. Her eyes were just able to roll upwards, staring at him as he had his hands on her stomach. “You know, for someone as manipulative as you are, you appeared overly content with a reactionary form of protection. You should have understood that the greatest advantage of the human body is the ability to understand problems before they appear. Say, underestimating the manipulation my thaumatology is capable of?”  
  
Drool started to pour out of Reines’s mouth, down her cheek and ruining her lipstick. She tried to furrow her brow, but couldn’t do it. She tried to kick her legs, but couldn't do it. She wasn’t even able to twitch a finger. She was literally being held by the Chateau head, at his mercy.  
  
“I understand this must be a bit terrifying, but don’t worry, it’s temporary. I did _not_ remove the concept of transfer in your active system. Like I said, _far_ too dangerous.” He continued to grin down upon her. “I only made it require a larger electrical shift to enact a change. Force a larger gradient to allow for movement. Or, to be more iterative, to say that instead of jumping a fence, you’re climbing a mountain.”  
  
She couldn’t speak back to him, not easily. Not at all. He was wrong, she wasn’t terrified. Reines was furious. As soon as she got her feeling back, she was going to have Trimmau tear his head off. Maybe give it to Gray to see her panic.  
  
“Before I forget now.” Emerick put his fingers to his own throat, the crest on the back of his hand pulsing for a moment. Unable to look away, the blonde El-Melloi head watched. “_Ah, how’s this~.”_  
  
If her jaw wasn’t already flopped open, it would have fallen so when Reines heard _her voice_ coming out of _Emerick’s mouth_.  
  
“Impressive, isn’t it?” He even smiled like she did. “Not as hard as you might think. Just a bit of vocal cord adjustment. _That_ was among the first set of advanced skills I dedicated myself to, proving I was a capable head. Understanding the diameter of each chord, position for tremor, and knowing how they affected the sound of one’s voice. Manipulate them just right, and I could even sound like The White Queen of the Clocktower, not that I’d ever dare.”  
  
He coughed, and even his_ cough_ sounded like her. The insinuation of it… Reines didn’t like it. She wasn’t entirely confident what was happening, but she knew she did _not_ like it.  
  
“Okay, now _Trimmau_~!_” _He called out to _her_ golem.  
  
“Yes, my lady?” Reines couldn’t shake with rage, but her mind was desperate to.  
  
“I rescind my previous request. I feel that this Emerick should try and show me _just_ how capable he is with his thaumatology. That will require more contact, understood?” No no no.  
  
“Yes, my lady,” the _damnable_ golem spoke again. “Would you like for me to leave? Perhaps prepare a tray of liquids for you?”  
  
“If you may, please wait in the lobby for me. Ensure that no guests disturb us, not even my brother. Wouldn’t want him getting the wrong idea, would we~?” Emerick laughed with _her_ voice. And despite the monumental amount of effort he said she’d need to move, Reines nearly, _so nearly_, clenched her jaw. “Otherwise, discard the noise I will be making. I assume this will be… _enjoyable~_.”  
  
“Of course, my lady. For how long before you wish for me to return?”  
  
“The night should be preferred. I’ll put myself to bed, but be sure to wake me in the morning?” Just over his shoulder, Reines watched Trimmau bow, curtsying her dress and stepping out of sight. The click of the door followed, leaving Reines alone.  
  
Alone in her family library, with a man who had fucked so _many_ other members of the Clocktower.  
  
And now she was literally in the palm of his hand. _How careless of her_.  
  
“There…” he spoke, his voice _thankfully_ returning to normal. Too bad it didn’t have the low tremor or fear she so wished to hear. “Now that I’ve shown you that little manipulation, I should show you what was the initial point of this. Turning off nervous systems.”  
  
He spoke as his hands trailed down her toned stomach, reaching the top of her tights. Reines didn’t feel it. Emerick’s touch was still nothing to her, a faint touch at best, not even there at worst. And all Reines could do was watch his hand slip around the elastic band of her clothing.  
  
Before slowly pulling them off, guiding them around her thighs and down her legs.  
  
He took a _disgusting_ moment to appreciate her when he got the band around her thighs, staring at her cunt. Her shaven and clean cunt. A cunt that was, against her better wishes, moderately wet. Damn the conversation from earlier.  
  
“It’s good to see you’re eager for this as well.” The Chateau head spoke easily, even as he pulled her tights down the rest of the way. Reines didn’t feel it, she only watched him toss the black leggings and panties away, leaving her bared and unresponsive to him. “I was worried this would be like fucking a corpse. And if you are dreaming of insults, I can confidently tell you I do not enjoy the idea. I prefer my women alive, awake, and _responsive._” That last comment came as he gently pressed his fingers to her damp folds.  
  
_SCHLICK~!_ Reines blacked out for a singular, horrifying moment.  
  
Pleasure not unlike watching a hopeful mind crying in shame flooded her mind. Her brain, for a single moment, felt like something almost unnaturally hot was slid into it, making her want to crane her back and scream in a blissful state unlike anything she’d experienced so far. Not even her dreams compared to the feeling she just had!  
  
“You feel that? That’s good,” Emerick spoke, waving his fingers in front of her. His _soaked_ fingers. “Like I said, the removal of some nerves and the others become stronger. I turn off the majority of your body’s passive system, as well as some active skeletal neurons, and your last remaining bundle becomes _hypersensitive_. What a fortune it is that I reserved that just for your pussy, you _cunt_.”  
  
The insult came with another drop of his fingers.  
  
_SCHLICK!_ Her mind faced out again, coming back in a heat and her head facing the other direction. Her tongue was out, drooling against the back pillow of the chair, and her legs were spread further than before. She _had_ legitimately passed out, and from pleasure. The same pleasure that had her unresponsive body crying for pleasure in her favorite chair.  
  
“Even stronger than the first. I’m guessing it’s not common you get to enjoy the more carnal pleasures of humanity. A problem with most Magi, not an issue for my family.” Emerick was talking to her, but she couldn’t twist her head to see him. “There are many women in our family who ask for this kind of play. One of the first concubines my father gifted me was terrified of it, but now she requests it after sucking my cock clean. It is the only way she gets off anymore.”  
  
She heard something drop, clatter to the ground. Not a book or candle, but something clothlike, followed by something metallic. She hadn’t heard it before, but now… now she was starting to realize what it likely was.  
  
Namely when she saw Emerick walk in front of her, on the side of the chair, and present his cock to her face.  
  
His hand grabbed her blonde hair, like a heavy leash around the top of her head. She didn’t feel the pain of having her hair pulled, let alone recognizing what he did to her cap. She could only tell drool was faintly leaving her mouth, tongue flopped out and rolling until it was flung over the bottom of her chin. Her head was held up, straight… and pointed straight at his cock. Reines knew what was coming, but her mind was already enduring two explosive bursts of lust.  
  
The head of the dick was put on her tongue, and a brief part of her mind was thankful she couldn’t feel it. That meant she couldn't taste it, but that was quickly proven false.  
  
Whatever Emerick had done, it left her able to _taste_ the salty nature on his head, perhaps even the remains of one of the other girls he had fucked. Was she tasting the cunt of Gray right now? Eating her pussy by proxy? Was she perhaps cleaning a man’s shaft with her throat? Reines literally couldn’t say.  
  
_“GLACH~!_” The sound left her as his cock found perch inside her throat, the only sound she could make.  
  
And it was made as the cock of the man was shoved into her, far enough to have her chin slap at his balls, smother themselves with her drool. Vacant blue eyes stared at the pubes of the man’s shaft running toward her, stopped only by her nose burying itself at the base of his dick. She was thankful she couldn’t feel it, but she loathed she could _smell_ the musk.  
  
“If you had a diaphragm that could contract, I’d ask you if you enjoyed the taste and smell. Rather, if you _could_ smell or taste my dick.” Reines was going to kill him, using her like some kind of… cheap toy. Gray and the others were humorous, but _she_ was the line too far. “I’ll have to check later if you do or not. For now, why don’t you keep yourself comfortable, and tell me when you feel it.” Feel what?  
  
The question was unnecessary. Not when Emerick put his hands on either side of her head, holding her still and up against his shaft.  
  
“_GLACH-GLACH-GLACH-GLACH-GALVH~!”_ Then he started to piston in and out of her mouth, fucking it until his head was beating at the back of her throat. The noises she made were involuntary, all from the air in her lungs being fucked out after it was put in. Her mouth and throat used for his pleasure, hips bucking until his balls were slapping against her chin.  
  
Reines endured as well she could, already unable to react or move, and letting the Chateau head use her to his pleasure. All the while she had to taste his shaft coating the inside of her mouth, smelling the sick scent of his seed, sweat, and spunk, knowing that even on some level, his cum was being put in her, and without her consent or say.  
  
It was impossible to tell how long he amused himself with her, seeing as she gained no pleasure from it, but Reines knew he was finishing. Not because he was going faster or felt larger. She had lost the ability to discern such things. No, instead, she knew he was finishing when he pulled out of her.  
  
Then aimed his cock head at her face.  
  
_SPURT! SPURT!_ She couldn’t even shut her eyes as the cum covered her.  
  
It hit her forehead, several spurts of it undoubtedly coating her blonde hair. It quickly fell down her face, falling over one of her eyes and smothering itself over the bridge of her nose. She could smell the bitter taste, as well as taste it when several shots hit her outstretched tongue and _fucked_ open mouth. It covered her like butter over a turkey, and she as felt basted as one.  
  
“A good sight, and a fine performance.” Emerick congratulated himself, just before letting her go.  
  
Reines fell back in her seat, unable to hold herself up. She bounced, realizing only after she’d settled into a horrible uncouth slouch, that her top had to be ruined. It, her face, and even her chair. That was bad.  
  
_CLICK! _But the sound of a camera going off, a _camera_ of all things, was worse.  
  
“Technology despite what Magi say, is not a bad thing. Properly used, it can be quite helpful.” Her face flopped to the side, smelling, tasting, and _eyeing_ cum, she couldn’t see him. “For example, taking pictures of a cum stained El-Melloi, for prosperity and protection.” Dead, he was dead.  
  
_WHAP!_ And from the spike of pleasure that shot through her brain like a Gandr spell through her bones, _she_ was _fucked_.  
  
“That’s one example,” Emerick spoke again. “The other, is to record me fucking your sensitive cunt raw. Hard enough and long enough to get you begging for it like that concubine. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to introduce the two of you one day, send you into this passive state together.”  
  
Reines was only passively listening, focusing her _everything_ on the monumental skull-fucking heat and sensation at her cunt. Her walls already felt like they were clenched in horrifying pleasure, and her face couldn’t bear any expression but pleasure. It was just… it was too much. The Chateau head’s cock was _on_ her cunt.  
  
“Besides, after this, I think that’s going to be the best place for you. At my bedside, _begging_ me to fuck you.”  
  
_SHCH-LAP~!_ Her mind left her again.  
  
When she came to, it was with electricity being wired to her brain and cunt, firing into her with a voltage and amperage that were nearly guaranteed to kill. Reines couldn’t imagine anything else was happening. It _certainly _wasn’t just because of the dick she felt in her!  
  
The cock she felt _ruining_ her with such long thrusts that her mind felt like it was being _churned_ by the fucking. A cock that had knocked her out with the first blow, and had to have been fucking her for so long now that her hyper-sensitized body was _use_d to the sensation. Or at least, not so violently reactive.  
  
It didn’t stop or hinder the fact she was, still, being fucked up her cunt by Emerick, and to a point that felt like her gut was filling.  
  
“Awake now?” Emerick asked between thrusts. She barely heard him through the ringing in her head. “It’s been like ten minutes of me fucking you. Lost track of the number of times you came. All of them hard enough to keep your brain knocked out. Funny thing about pleasure and feeling, too much of it and the brain shuts off to protect itself. Good to hear you enjoy fucking me _that_ much.”  
  
She did _not_. Not even _close!_ The idea of Reines El-Melloi enduring this at all was a despicable thought to her. She was in her library, _her_ chair, with _her_ home, and this man was fucking her like she was some vagrant from beyond the tower.  
  
The idea of him doing anything else, while her cunt was used and abused, was a trivial and impossible thought.  
  
More than that, Reines was starting to realize just how hard thoughts _were_. Not thinking, not plotting. The feeling… it was making her _think about other_ things.  
  
Like that his cock, belonging to a _dick_ of a man, was _amazing!_ It was just… More than any woman should be able to endure!  
  
He was fucking her hard enough to have her slapping the back of her chair, rocking it as her hips were gripped like handlebars, fucked through like a disposable seed. Emerick wasn’t playing with her clit, speaking fondly to her, or looking for her pleasure. It was all about _him_. And he had made her some worn passive toy for _his_ enjoyment.  
  
Worse than all of that, was that she _was_ enjoying it. Her mind had blacked out _thrice_ from the pleasure, and she could only imagine what had happened since then.  
  
How many times had she cum? How many times had _he_ cum?  
  
“Alright… last one…” Her answer came with the terrifying feeling.  
  
_SPURT SPURT!_ Once more, Reines came, light dotting her vision, as the cock in her cunt finally exploded. For the first or hundredth time, she didn’t know. Only that her cunt was cumming with it.  
  
Feeling her womb getting filled by the seed, growing in her gut like a belly. She’d never even imagined being with child, but she could feel every little sensation of the cock milk painting her walls… and it was so intense. If this was how raped women felt, then she should have tried to talk to more of them, for the joy of watching them shiver and cry at the memory of being violated to their most sacred part.  
  
That was her right now. Violated, painted, used… and for a man she hadn’t met long ago.  
  
“There… that was good, _excellent_ I’d say.” Emerick _doted_ on himself. Pulling out of her to let the cum drain. Her body fell down as he did so, until her _knees_ were on the floor, the rest of her body precariously balanced on the cushions of her chair. “You want to stay like that, be careful. Look like that anywhere else, and it’d be like you’re _asking_ for trouble.”  
  
He laughed, but Reines couldn’t. She didn’t need heavy feeling to know she was caked in surrounding her from head to toe. Her hair, her cunt, her face, her feet, _everywhere._ He had fucked her and cum on and in her… and now he was done with her.  
  
“Don’t worry, the spell should wear off in an hour or so. Temporary thing, because I don’t want to ruin a body like yours on accident.” Slumped over in her chair, cum leaking out and ruining the cushions, Reines couldn’t respond. “Like I said though, your golem maid should be up here tomorrow, so in case you can’t make it to her or out of the room, you’ll be okay.”  
  
Her breathing was shallow and scented with cum, her cunt were reshaped and quivering with more _orgasms_ than she had meals in her life. Her brain was mush, worse than even the most beaten of patties. She had _nothing_ about herself that was okay.  
  
“You might have forgotten through the fucking, but I _did_ take several images of you. Just some stills to show how much you enjoyed my dick. Trust me, you’re not the only one.” That was no comfort. “I’ll be going now, so be sure to send Trimmau if you want to do this again. I imagine you’re going to be having a hard time getting off otherwise. Till then, _Lady El-Melloi_.” The mirth on his voice was clear.  
  
As clear as the shutting door, locking her in her own room, naked and afraid, used and thrown away. Just a thing for someone else’s enjoyment. The way the rest of the world was supposed to be for her, and now she was being treated just in kind. There was nothing fair, okay, or _fine_ with this.  
  
Absolutely nothing.  
  
Reines let herself slip back into the abyss of pleasure and sleep, the horrifying thoughts carrying her there.


End file.
